


A Match Made in Hallownest

by SquidSensei



Series: Grimm's Knight [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquidSensei/pseuds/SquidSensei
Summary: This work will be several chapters long.  It picks up after the first work directly, and will contain tales of Grimm and the Vessel's adventures together.
Relationships: Grimm/The Knight (Hollow Knight)
Series: Grimm's Knight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806970
Comments: 52
Kudos: 139





	1. Making a Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! I received a lot of positive feedback on my last work, and as someone new to AO3, it made me really happy! Thank you for your support, and I hope you all enjoy what I have planned coming up.  
> This work will be several chapters long, I hope, and will detail Grimm and the Vessel's life after the Radiance was defeated. I have a few ideas for things to happen, and I also think that, with the Radiance gone, things will diverge more and more from canon here on out. I am always happy to receive constructive criticism, just be aware my own spin on things will become more present going forward!

Dirtmouth was as peaceful as ever. 

Despite the incredible fighting that they’d endured, the Vessel and Grimm hadn’t spoken to Hornet, who seemed to have left before they’d stepped through. The guardian of the Black Egg, which Grimm had been able to discern was named the Hollow Knight, laid lifeless on the ground by the time they’d arrived. The master of the troupe - or, well, ex-master, he supposed - had barely spared it a glance, and even that glance was only to make sure it didn’t roar again. He did, however, glance at the ghost nestled into his left arm, who seemed to look a bit sad. Grimm tightened his grasp ever so slightly. They’d avoided that fate. 

And, going forward, Grimm promised himself they would never look back. They would never need to come back to this temple again, never have to worry about destiny or fate or some predetermined route they were forced to walk. From now on, it would be the two of them, standing together against anything that came to stand in their way. At least...that’s what Grimm told himself. The Vessel had left their siblings, had left what he’d thought was their home, but was that really all there was to it? Grimm found it difficult to believe that the ghost was capable of making such a commitment with such small gestures. Perhaps he was reading too much into this. 

Had he just...performed a kidnapping? Small beads of sweat dripped down his exterior. No, no, the Vessel had clearly _wanted_ to come with him. They’d clung to him, given him a flower, and … Grimm had blinded them with their helmet and suddenly scooped them up. Gloom suddenly overcame the bug as he realized he might have performed a crime. However, as he turned his face to the knight cradled in his arm, that gloom seemed to melt away. This little creature had defied deities, abominations and who knew what else. If they’d truly had a problem with his kidnapping, Grimm was certain that he’d have been cut down by now. Or, worse, he wouldn’t have survived the kidnapping attempt. 

The former troupe master stepped into the spotlight, a small area of light that shone down into the Forgotten Crossroads from the sky of Dirtmouth above. Grimm bent his knees and leapt up, his cape momentarily unfurling to give them the last little boost they needed to arrive on the well’s edge. He stepped off of it, his feet lightly making contact with the ground. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. There’d been a strange fear lingering within his chest, some sort of anxiety that seemed to constrict his inner organs. He’d followed the Vessel’s lead, and defied destiny. The Nightmare Heart, an entity that had held power over him for so long - since his creation - had gone silent ever since he’d heard the shattering of chains. He’d done it to help the knight, his knight, but ever since...there’d been no pulsing, no rattling, and no voices.

It was unsettling, to say the least. The Nightmare Heart was a being that had existed as far as Grimm could remember, and it was the core to the troupe and his kin. It was the reason that Grimm was created, as well as all those who came before him. He knew little about the actual Heart, other than that it thirsted for decimation and craved power so hungrily it made him sick. The Nightmare Heart had always been a part of him, always quietly there in the confines of his existence, but now, he felt nothing. He felt … himself. There did not seem to be eyes watching him, not a loose leash wrapped around his neck. 

However, with the loss of control, Grimm had expected Dirtmouth to be in ruins. He’d expected the troupe to go mad, lose their minds, and attack the other residents in the town. He thought the buildings would be up in flames, and his kin would be cackling in the distance. It would have been an easy target. Grimm knew very well that Dirtmouth would have served as a fine flame for the Nightmare Heart as well, giving it a fresh start after Grimm forced himself out of its shackles. 

Yet, Dirtmouth was as peaceful as ever. As Grimm strolled into town, there was the occasional quiet breeze that was once a mighty gust from the Howling Cliffs, the loud babbling of a short bug with a small purple one. And then, there was the bench. As he approached, the Elderbug became a bit tense. Grimm glanced at him, looked him up and down, narrowed his eyes, and then turned his unwidened eyes back to the Vessel, before sitting them down onto the bench and turning their helmet around, allowing them to see. The crack in the helmet was small, but it did go down the center. Perhaps they’d been hit when Grimm wasn’t looking. 

The former troupe master took a knee in front of the bench, looking over his ghost to make sure there were no injuries. However, shortly into his inspection, the ghost pulled on Grimm’s cloak, and attempted to wipe at it with their other hand. Grimm noticed now that he was back to his original colors - black with the red highlights. The knight was likely concerned that something had happened, since he’d been coated in red before, in the dream realm. 

“I am fine, small one.” Grimm’s words were low, and he finally looked up from his investigation. “Do you have any injuries?” 

The small knight seemed to lightly pat themselves down, before laying their hands in their lap and giving a slow shake of their head. 

“Excellent,” Grimm replied, getting to his feet. “Wait here. There is something I must see to. I will return shortly.” 

With that, Grimm turned to walk West. He needed to check on the troupe, check on his kin. Were they still there? Had everything collapsed without him present? Had Brumm fed the Grimmsteeds? He had to know. However, as he tried to take a step, there was a pull on his cloak. He didn’t even have to turn. He simply held out a hand and, with the plopping sound of the Vessel hopping off of the bench, Grimm felt that his hand had been taken. He released a low sigh. It was as if he was escorting a child, they were so small. Yet, he still felt warm. In a way, it was as if his hero was walking with him, doing something as childish as holding his hand. 

_No, pull yourself together, Grimm. You are a performer, an expert in your field. You do not react this way to someone this small and insignificant holding your hand._

Grimm glanced down, only to see that the Vessel was staring up at him. The former troupe master could almost see tiny little hearts popping all over their head. 

He promptly applied his free palm to his face, removed it, and began to walk. It was a brisk walk, but his steps were small to accommodate for the Vessel that he was walking with. This made the travel to the troupe’s location a bit longer than necessary. Grimm also was feeling a bit uncertain. Why? He wasn’t sure what to expect when he got to the location. The troupe could have moved on without him or exploded into a burst of theatrical flames. Or, worse, the Nightmare Heart had gripped the souls of his kin and they would be welcomed with combat on their return. All of these endings had one thing in common - Grimm did not want the Vessel to be involved. The knight was small, and he didn’t want to force them to endure any more than they already had. Sure, he’d seen this tiny warrior fight a celestial deity, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to protect them. 

Despite all the endings that the former troupe master had expected, only one of them was true. In the space where the circus tents had been, now was empty. There was no sign the troupe had even existed, save for faint indentations in the ground where the pegs had been that kept their tent standing. There were no footsteps, no flames, no kin, nothing. It was gone. 

And perhaps for the first time, Grimm felt incredibly alone. 

He’d always found a sort of comfort in the Nightmare Heart’s existence. It was there to show him that he had a purpose, that he was needed, and that everything he did played a part in a much grander show. But with the Nightmare Heart’s presence erased and his troupe gone, Grimm had no one else to turn to. The Elderbug was tense at the mere sight of Grimm, and the bugs tended to lock themselves in their homes when he passed by. Now, all he had was a tiny knight to guard him against the loneliness welling up in his heart.

But, perhaps it was selfish of him to expect that of the Vessel. 

Now, with the two of them standing on the main path in Dirtmouth, staring at the place where Grimm had only been ever to call ‘home’ before, he dared to open his mouth. 

“You...did you choose to stay beside me?” 

Of course, Grimm was met with silence. He’d never known the Vessel to speak, nor did he expect them to. But they had their own way of communication that Grimm respected. He would use his own language, and they would use theirs. That’s...all there was to it. Grimm’s eyes stayed on the vacancy, the place where his stage used to be, and there was a soft pat on his hand. His eyes slowly drifted down to see the knight holding his hand in both of theirs, giving a gentle tug. The former master of the troupe took a knee right there in the dirt - something he never would have done before his quest to rescue the ghost. It was unseemly, and the ground was dirty. Such filth would ruin his carefully calculated appearance. 

Now, on one knee, he remained taller than the Vessel. It was better, though, with the small creature coming up to his chest. Like the small warrior he was, the ghost hopped onto Grimm’s knee. It surprised him, and he quickly moved his arms forward to help stabilize the knight if they were to fall this way or the other. The knight stood there for a moment, and took two tiny steps to get closer to the pitiful director. The two were only centimeters apart from each other’s faces, and just as Grimm was beginning to question the entirety of this interaction, the Vessel did something unexpected. 

They hugged him. 

Two small arms wrapped around Grimm’s neck, the helmet pressing against his cheek. He moved his head to the left a bit to make room for the helmet, and, for a moment, he almost pulled away. After all, he wasn’t what the Vessel needed. They had a home, they had family, they had a place to belong. Abandoning such resources, such a support system, for someone like _Grimm_ who’d betrayed his superior and was now effectively homeless...it seemed like a waste. A waste of happiness. 

Yet, even as Grimm pulled away, the Vessel did not let go. In fact, their grasp tightened and, while it was not nearly enough to cause Grimm trouble breathing, it was firm enough to show Grimm that they were not going to release him. It had a strange mix of emotions to the former troupe master. It was like a small child clinging to a parent, desperate for some sort of affection. On the other hand, it was akin to something Grimm hadn’t experienced before. Some sort of eagerness to comfort another individual of great importance. It was strange, that such small creature would give off such an aura. 

“Enough,” Grimm said, standing up. The Vessel dangled limply from Grimm’s neck. This wasn’t a problem - Grimm could easily hold up this amount of weight. 

Grimm pulled on the Vessel’s waist, yet their arms remained clasped. Grimm pulled harder and, like stretchy taffy, the knight stretched before Grimm released them, snapping the Vessel back into place in an almost cartoonish fashion. Perhaps being from the Abyss made them elastic. Grimm stood disgruntled with his hands on his hips, and soon felt the smooth motion of the Vessel nuzzling their helmet into the former troupe master’s cheek. 

“...Is it that important to you?” The words left Grimm’s mouth quietly, almost in a sort of whisper. Nothing changed in response. The Vessel still had a firm hug around the former troupe master’s neck. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the tiny creature, and hugged him close. 

It wasn’t something he was used to. He hadn’t done it prior to meeting the knight. Yet...it was oddly comforting, and he felt he was doing it correctly. His arms were around the Vessel’s body, wrapped around their back, and almost across Grimm’s chest due to the knight being so small. The Vessel, upon receiving a returned embrace, raised a hand and pat the former troupe master’s cheek comfortingly. 

Grimm wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. He hadn’t known this kind of comfort, he hadn’t been embraced, and he hadn’t had someone who looked only at him even when he wasn’t performing. He felt a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and comfort in these small gestures provided by an even smaller knight. Grimm stood there, holding the Vessel against his chest while his eyes were fixated on the clearing that once held his entire livelihood. 

The hug seemed to clear away the sorrowful fog clouding Grimm’s mind just enough for Grimm to see what needed to be done. 

“We should … look for a place to stay,” Grimm said, turning his head down to look at his partner, who was still stubbornly clinging to his neck. He thought about explaining why they should find a place to stay. Perhaps he could tell the Vessel that things were dangerous at night, or that they could fall ill during the night time temperatures. Yet, saying such things sounded almost silly, given what he’d seen the knight go through. He was clearly a competent warrior. Night time bugs and chilly air were hardly threats. 

Honestly, Grimm just wanted a place to sleep. 

So, he began to walk. He wasn’t entirely certain where a good place to rest would be...the bench offered little protection, and the homes of the other bugs immediately boarded up when he passed. Beyond that was the well, which Grimm wasn’t eager to explore during the night, and beyond that the graveyard. Perhaps the Vessel caught on to Grimm’s hesitation, because the promptly crawled up Grimm’s chest and perched on his shoulders, both hands holding onto Grimm’s horns. They pat Grimm’s forehead, and as the former troupe master glanced up, the Vessel pointed West - towards King’s Pass. 

Grimm wasn’t entirely sure what they meant at first, but he followed their direction. King’s Pass was quite a bit higher than ground level, and climbing was hardly Grimm’s forte. What was in King’s Pass, anyway? Why would they insist on going that way? Still, Grimm trudged West, his slender fingers holding onto the Vessel’s tiny legs that dangled over his shoulders. 

Soon enough, the duo arrived in front of the large cliff that separated Dirtmouth and Hallownest from the rest of the world. It loomed over them, and an eerie fog had settled. Grimm sighed. 

“Well,” Grimm said, “we’ve arrived. As you wished.” 

The Vessel patted the top of Grimm’s head twice before pulling lightly on his horns to help him heave himself into a standing position, where his feet were planted on Grimm’s shoulders. Grimm’s head yanked backwards lightly in response to the sudden tug. 

“What are you doing?” Grimm’s voice came out slightly irritated, as well as confused, but as if to answer his question, the Vessel leapt forward and secured themself to the wall. They began to climb upwards, easily finding footholds in the rock. 

The entire activity gave Grimm anxiety. Such a tiny creature scaling such a giant cliff, and with no safety net? Grimm was all for taking risks and putting on performances, but he couldn’t help but be concerned. His eyes followed the knight on their way up the cliff until they’d disappeared into the fog. He stared at the rock. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said with a soft laugh. “Far too strenuous.” 

At that, he took a step forward and began to walk up the cliff. He defied gravity, defied physics, but scaled the wall with ease. It was walking on air, something he was capable of but never did. It wasn’t flashy enough. After all, teleportation had so much more to it, and it always shocked an audience. But teleportation wasn’t going to help him find his little warrior. So, he walked up into the fog, after the Vessel. 

He found him before too long, still finding footholds and handholds in the rock fairly easily. They were making the same consistent pacing, one hand, a foot, the other hand, and the other foot. As Grimm walked near them, they paused, turning their head to look at the former troupe master. It was an empty, bottomless gaze of darkness, but it was one that Grimm could feel was...happy? 

“Keep going,” Grimm scoffed. “There’s plenty more ground to cover.” 

The Vessel gave a slow nod before they continued upwards, and the two shared a sort of peaceful silence for the remainder of the trip. The occasional sound of rocks crumbling would make Grimm glance towards his partner, but the Vessel was always making headway, and even with shifting sediment they seemed confident in their climbing skills. He wasn’t sure what the knight had been through, but clearly they were experienced. 

The duo eventually reached the cliff, the overhanging peak of rock that looked over Dirtmouth. Grimm stepped smoothly onto the rocky surface, so smoothly it was as if he were just out for an evening’s stroll. The Vessel, however, clambered up the rest of the way before hopping up onto the platform. Their steps were as quiet and quick as ever as they approached Grimm, gently lifting his cloak to peer beneath it.

“Looking for something?” Grimm’s words were almost laced with a victorious tone. The Vessel put the cloak back down and looked up at Grimm. They were waiting patiently, but something told the former troupe master that they were, in fact, disappointed by not finding what they’d been looking for. 

“My arms are crossed.” Grimm uncrossed his arms, stretching his arms out to his sides as if to unveil some grand master plan. The Vessel promptly leapt up and grasped Grimm’s right hand, and held on to it firmly. Grimm’s left hand dropped with a sigh. And here he’d planned to make them work a bit harder for what they’d wanted. 

This time, the Vessel was the one to lead Grimm. They ran forward, although Grimm only needed to take longer strides to keep up. They weaved in between different rock formations, and in some places, Grimm had to duck to avoid hitting his head on a stalactite. Still, he followed his companion. Before too long, they’d found a small niche in the cave. A tiny area tucked away, hidden behind shadow. Grimm stepped in to see the Vessel seated next to an unlit campfire, with two corpses on either side of him. Old bugs, lightly fallen victim to the infection or … some other means destruction. 

Grimm stepped in and paused, hunched over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. This was...less than optimal. Two dead bodies made it feel more crowded than the lack of space. With a simple snap of his fingers, two fiery creatures emerged from beneath his cloak and snatched the corpses away, flying them outside the small cave. He waited, and, when he heard the _crunch_ of their bodies hitting the ground, he stepped in. All the while, the Vessel had sat, unfazed, watching as Grimm disposed of the clutter and stepped inwards. 

The former troupe master, with a light grimace, sat down on the rock. He glanced to the Vessel, who currently had their knees tucked into their chest and was looking at him expectantly. Grimm slowly maneuvered his body, too long and thin to be in such a cramped, rocky space, until he sat with his legs crossed, knees jutting out to his left and right. He released a sigh of moderate relief, no longer banging his limbs against the walls in order to try and find some position of comfort. 

Now settled, he turned his gaze to the Vessel. They leaned forward, and picked up a stick from the unlit campfire. The campfire had once been lit, that much was easy to tell - from the occasional charred markings and the ashes beneath the pile. Grimm almost thought it strange, to pick a grave for their resting area, but quickly pushed the thought away. The dead were dead. They didn’t need this cave anymore. 

“What is it you want?” Grimm’s tone was casual. It was almost commanding, but that was simply Grimm’s style. He narrowed his eyes briefly when the Vessel waved it closer to him. 

“You...What do I look like to you? A match?” Grimm was met with silence, the Vessel peering at him. With a quiet growl, Grimm snatched the stick out of their hand. With a quick snap of his fingers, the stick was alight, and he tossed it onto the campfire. 

The flames slowly began to spread to the other twigs, and it radiated a warmth that Grimm hadn’t felt in a while. He’d felt content, satisfied, and neutral, but to feel peaceful and warm was something new to him. Just sitting by the fire was as if he were being hugged again. Not that he’d enjoyed the sensation - or, well, not that he’d admit it. 

The pair sat in silence for a short time. They simply enjoyed the peace, the warmth, the dancing of the flames together. They flickered and licked at the fuel piled beneath them, giving off a soft light that Grimm had seen before. Flames, he was familiar with. Grimm lost track of how long they’d sat like that, but after what he guessed was a few hours, the Vessel slowly got to their feet and stepped over. 

They moved slowly, carefully, so as to try to avoid the attention of the former troupe master. They moved directly in front of him, and gingerly climbed into Grimm’s lap. He paused for a moment, tilting his head up towards the ceiling, as if to ask whatever being that had sent him this knight what they expected him to do with them. They were an incredible enigma. One moment, they were bringing him flowers, another moment and they were fighting a divine being. Now, they were curled up in Grimm’s lap like...like...a cat? Absolute insanity. 

Yet, there was something that made Grimm fond of the creature. They had so many sides to them, so many dimensions, so many possibilities. It was a complete contrast to Grimm, who’d lived his entire life for one purpose and one purpose only. It fascinated him, and it seemed like every time that Grimm thought he’d seen everything, the knight took off another piece of armor. They continued to show Grimm that there was more to them. Despite having been a Vessel, a being made to serve a single purpose, they’d experienced so much of life that they’d taken on a sort of color. Despite their lack of emotion, their lack of speech...they held an incredible amount of influence over Grimm. They were something that forced him to think differently, an individual that stirred his emotions. 

Even now, Grimm, who normally slept upside down, was finding himself extremely comfortable. The rocks were less than pleasant, but the fire was warm and so was the knight in his lap. It was almost soothing, how simple this was. He was a man of grandeur, an actor amongst actors. Most of his work was over the top, extravagant, and eye-catching. Now, however, as he began to drift to sleep, he began to realize that perhaps simple wasn’t so bad. 

*******

When Grimm woke up, it was with a start. It was perhaps the first nightmare-less sleep he’d had since he was born, and he felt unsettled by it. As he began to truly wake up, he realized that his body ached. Surely it would, for sleeping on the rock floor, propped up against a rock wall. His legs also felt strangely numb. The former master of the troupe looked down, only to see the Vessel sprawled on their back, gazing up at the ceiling. As Grimm looked down, their head slowly turned to look up at him. The gaze was physically hollow and dark, but Grimm could tell that they were...happy. Perhaps it was because Grimm knew the knight was just that kind of individual, or perhaps it was made clear in the next moment when they lunged upwards into a half sit-up, laying their hands on both of Grimm’s cheeks. Grimm sighed, and attempted to stand.

The fire had long died out, and the twigs had been consumed. With twigs scarce in their rocky environment, it would be better to get moving. They couldn’t live here forever. Grimm finally stood, though he was still hunched over, and the Vessel remained latched onto his face. The former troupe master almost looked like a holiday figure, with the knight dangling from his cheeks like a beard. He ducked down to leave their cave, and once he was out, he stretched his arms high above his head. Sitting in such rough conditions had made him ache. Once he finished his stretching, he curled his left arm against his chest and, as if having been cued, the Vessel released Grimm’s cheeks and dropped into his arm. 

“We have some searching to do, if you’re to stay out of the Abyss.” Grimm’s words were casual, logical, and matter-of-fact as he began to retrace his steps to the peak of King’s Pass. “I’m...not sure what’s waiting for us, or if any homes are even available, but living in caverns like last night just won’t do.” 

The Vessel looked up, staring at the former troupe master. Grimm continued to look ahead, but was very, very aware of the attention he was receiving. If he was less concerned about his appearance, he may have blushed. 

“It hurt my back, and it’s absolutely dull. I won’t be living in a place so … unappealing.” Grimm had phrased things in the nicest way he knew how, yet his disdain for their sleeping arrangement still seeped through. He hadn’t minded the actual sleeping, of course - having someone curling into his lap and depending on him for comfort was … nice, he thought. 

At the peak of King’s Pass, he simply walked off. He continued to take steps, almost as if he were descending stairs. In the crook of his arm, the Vessel looked to the ground, then back to their companion, then back to the thin air, and back again. They seemed panicked by their jerky movements. Grimm tightened his grip, and to his dismay, the knight leaned into it, holding onto his cloak. How dependent were they? They were giving Grimm mixed signals. One moment they were fighting to save the fate of Hallownest, and the next moment they’re holding on to him because they’re … afraid of heights. 

Grimm supposed he couldn’t judge. Ever since meeting the Vessel, Grimm had put on his own performance. He’d been flamboyant, theatrical and confident. But when he’d struggled with the Nightmare Heart, he’d trembled. When he’d seen the Vessel scaling a cliff, he’d grown anxious. As much as he enjoyed pretending he was this impenetrable figure of pizzazz, he was learning that everyone had several sides to them, even him. When someone shows a different side, you have to accommodate. 

Grimm finally reached the ground, his feet lightly making contact as he continued to walk towards Dirtmouth. Even from a distance, Grimm could tell things were … different. The town that was normally quiet and wreaked of melancholy, was now...a bit cheerful. It was as if the fog had lifted, and now everyone emanated an aura that was more pleasant. It made Grimm grimace. 

The city itself seemed fine, normal, even, but there were a few bugs out and about that Grimm didn’t recognize. They all looked similar to Grimm. Some of them had backpacks, others appeared dazed and lost. There were a variety, though most of them were small and round, or tall and thin. Finally, it struck him. 

Grimm had seen these same creatures in the Forgotten Crossroads when he’d run by towards the Temple! These were the same bugs, yet … they weren’t attacking. In fact, there was a group around the bench, where the Elderbug stood. 

“Calm down, children,” the Elderbug began. He was very clearly uncomfortable. He likely hadn’t seen this many bugs in his whole life. “I appreciate you seeking advice from me, but … I am only the leader of the humble city of Dirtmouth. The rest of Hallownest is … not within my control.” 

“But who else do we go to?”  
“We need places to live! The rest of the nest is...scary!”  
“How are we supposed to keep going on with our lives … ?” 

The voices cried out with confusion, sorrow, and indecision. They’d come to where they believed leadership to be, where they believed bugs existed who could be of assistance to them. But now they were being told otherwise. Before he even noticed, Grimm had stopped near the back of the crowd to observe with mild interest. With the moth having been defeated, it seemed that the bugs under its influence had been released. The former troupe master didn’t notice, but his tall appearance at the back of a crowd of very short bugs was obvious, and made the Elderbug even more nervous. 

“L-Listen, I’m sure we can think things through.” He held his hands out as a way to try and calm the crowd. “Please, be patient.” 

However, the Elderbug didn’t have much time to continue before a large round bug stepped up onto the bench, hip-checking the Elderbug into losing his balance and falling into the crowd, who swiftly caught him before he hit the stone floor. The bug who now had the bench beneath her had a white curled horn that resembled hair, and a pair of glasses that sat towards the bottom of her nose. In the crook of her right arm was a piece of tree bark with a leaf - a clipboard of sorts. 

“Have no fear, darlings,” she said, and Grimm immediately received an odd grandmother-type vibe from her. In his arm, the Vessel tensed. The former troupe master glanced down to see that the Vessel’s empty eyes were fixated on the woman on the bench. Was this...anger?

“I have just the thing for each of you,” the woman continued. “Due to the recent...um… _vacancies_ , there are many homes for each of you. You needn’t fret my dears.” Her smile was something that seemed to put the crowd at ease, but Grimm wasn’t fooled. The Vessel didn’t seem to be at ease, either. “The Crystal Peaks, the Green Path, the City of Tears...all of them have homes, just waiting to be filled by exciting young bugs like yourselves!” 

While Grimm wasn’t certain that he trusted this woman, she _was_ talking about houses, and the two of them needed a place to stay. The bugs in front of him were all shouting excitedly about their locations of desire, but Grimm simply waded through them, like a cat through a puddle. When he reached the bench, it was clear that even with the female bug on her makeshift pedestal, Grimm was taller. And better looking. 

“I’d like one of these homes you speak of,” Grimm said, leaning down as he spoke to meet her at eye level. The woman merely scoffed. 

“Dearie, there are so many others I need to see first! After all, you were at the back of the line, weren’t you? You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid.” The female bug adjusted her glasses and moved a hand out to push Grimm aside. She’d barely made contact when Grimm’s cloak when the knight rolled out of Grimm’s arm, landing skillfully on the bench and pulling out his nail, pointing it directly at the woman. 

Grimm watched, surprised, as the interaction took place. He wasn’t sure how to react, entirely. He knew that the Vessel was someone with moderately good intentions. How bad could someone be if they’d put their life on the line to save the world? They didn’t do very much in the way of helping others out of the good of their heart, but … they were far from what Grimm would call “evil”. 

He slowly caught on to the interaction, and leaned in, his upper body acting almost as a roof above the Vessel’s head in the way he posed. The woman in front of them seemed to be almost trembling, with the sparkle of recognition in her eyes. There was bad blood between the two of them, it seemed. Grimm could use this to his advantage. 

“Your name.” Grimm’s voice was low, sultry, and almost predatory in the way he spoke the simple two-word phrase. The Vessel had made her tremble, but now she shook as her eyes moved from the delicately crafted nail to the demonic presence currently presenting himself before her. 

“M-M-Millibelle.” The name came out weak, stuttered, and almost uncertain. 

Grimm’s eyes moved wordlessly to look at the crowd that remained, and as he narrowed his eyes at them, they scattered. His eyes returned to her, satisfied, and he moved into an upright standing position. In front of him, on the bench, the Vessel faked jabs with their nail at Millibelle, causing her to jump each time. As interesting as it was to see the knight scaring the shell out of this bug, it wasn’t going to help them find a home, and Grimm knew that. The former troupe master reached out, allowing one of his hands to rest on the knight’s head. 

“Easy.” At that one word, the nail’s tip dropped, resulting in a quiet _tink_ against the bench as the Vessel looked up towards Grimm. He looked back, and then turned his gaze on the one named Millibelle. “We’ll be skipping in the line.” 

“Yes, of course.” Millibelle’s words were still laced with panic, but she seemed to be collecting herself a bit now that the nail was no longer pointed directly at her. She dusted herself off and realigned her glasses. “After all, geo is geo. Order doesn’t matter, I suppose.” 

The knight pulled up the nail again, causing Millibelle to flinch. 

“O-Or, you know what? Forget about the Geo, we can talk about that later. A-As long as I can help you two find what you’re looking for, that’s all that matters to me!” 

Grimm glanced to the knight, and his gaze was neutral. In reality, it was a mix between amusement and disapproval, but they evened out into a somewhat neutral expression. The Vessel glanced up, as if waiting for praise or a scolding, and Grimm merely gave a light nod. The nail was promptly put away, and the Vessel returned to Grimm’s side. At this movement, Millibelle seemed to breathe a little easier. 

“Well, where should we get started? Homes are available all through Hallownest following the Infection, given the casualties that occurred. Here, a pamphlet.” Millibelle slipped into business mode swiftly, and removed a small handout from her clipboard, handing it to Grimm. He took it, and looked it over. It appeared to be a map of Hallownest, with all of the areas listed along with short descriptions. 

*** 

Crystal Peak. _Once a mining site, this area is bustling with activity! The crystals that form in this district are completely natural, and will give a wonderful atmosphere to anyone who calls this place home._

Forgotten Crossroads. _No longer forgotten, this district is a popular place for families to settle down in. Some of its qualities include the Stag Station, local markets, and easy paths to both the Green district and the Fungal district!_

City of Tears. _Houses in the City of Tears are going fast! It’s a popular destination with multi-tiered housing. With beautiful architecture, large glass windows, and historical monuments, this is a wonderful home for any individual thirsty for excellent aesthetics!_

The Hive. _This area is absolutely buzzing with excitement! Live in a world of hexagons within the kingdom of the bees! Employment guaranteed in the honey production plant!_

Deepnest. _The Arachnid Architects of Deepnest have been working around the clock to create cozy homes of silk for the influx of new citizens - including you! This district is located by a soon-to-be working tram station, a natural hot spring, and happens to be neighbors with the Mantis Village!_

_Fungal Wastes. _The mushroom kingdom is filled with beautiful spores and, while not for the frail or sickly, is known to even boost some immune systems! Live in the Mantis Village for warriors, or take interest in one of our homier mushroom properties!__

__GreenPath. _Reconnect to the wilderness in this green, leafy district! Live in a home surrounded by wildlife, trees, and just a short walk away from Lake Unn!__ _

__***_ _

__Grimm narrowed his eyes at the pamphlet. The descriptions were short, and each district seemed to have its own perks. It was somewhat helpful for Grimm, who’d never left Dirtmouth. Hell, he’d never left his tent. Now, here he was, trying to look for a new place to live. As his eyes began to move down the pamphlet, he spotted something of interest in small script near the bottom._ _

___Contact Iselda for scheduling a tour._ _ _

__The former troupe master tilted his head up to look at Millibelle and the Vessel, who were currently locked in eye contact. Millibelle appeared less than comfortable, but Grimm could almost see that flames in the Vessel’s eyes. This wasn’t a good decision._ _

__“You stole these, did you not?” Grimm’s voice was calm, crisp._ _

__“W-Where do you find the basis for such an accusation, dearie?” Millibelle seemed off-guard again, clearly nervous._ _

__“It says to contact someone who isn’t you.” Grimm held the paper in front of her, close so that her eyes could see. She jumped in response and attempted to snatch the pamphlet, but Grimm easily moved it beyond her reach. “I think we’ll be taking our business elsewhere, given that you seem to be profiting off of the work of others…” Grimm paused, allowing his left hand to drop. The Vessel took it. “...and my partner here seems to dislike you very much.”_ _

__Across from him, Millibelle looked to be hurt, but it quickly contorted to anger._ _

__“Fine, then. If you don’t need my help, then suit yourselves! I hope you get lost in those roads, for all I care!”_ _

__The bug hopped off of the bench and strolled towards where a smaller section of the crowd had scattered to. She appeared to be looking for her next victim. Grimm sighed, and took a knee so that he was closer to eye-level with the Vessel, who stood on the bench. They turned to look at him as he held up the pamphlet, his other hand pointing an index finger to the name._ _

__“Do you know who Iselda is?”_ _

__The Vessel, who seemed to have been a bit on guard the entire interaction with Millibelle, now perked up, and hopped off of the bench before rushing past Grimm. For a moment, their cape caught the wind, and they looked like a small vampire rushing off into the distance. Grimm got to his feet, dusted off his knee, and followed._ _

__The knight led him to one of the buildings in Dirtmouth, just a short walk east. It was a small shop located amongst the houses, not too far from the stag station. The Vessel led the way inside, and Grimm had to duck to step in. Once inside, Grimm could see this must have been the right place._ _

__In the back of the building was a bookshelf loaded from top to bottom in rolled maps tied neatly with string, with stacks of map tokens on the left side of each shelf. Above the bookshelf held a sign: Iselda’s Estates and Cornifer’s Maps. In front of the bookshelf was a pair of bugs, a shin woman and a rather wide man, and in front of them was a desk. On the desk were pamphlets identical to the ones that Millibelle had handed out._ _

__“Ah, little one, you’ve come back.” The voice belonged to a mature young woman, and she crouched down to pat the knight’s head familiarly. Grimm narrowed his eyes. Behind the desk, the wide bug, a mosquito, gave a hearty chuckle._ _

__“She’s been waiting for him to come back,” he said. “This lad bought all my maps. That is, until I had to make more. With so many people gaining back their senses, I couldn’t resist helping them out!” He released a minor laugh. “Ah, this is my wife, Iselda, and I’m Cornifer. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!” He held out his hand._ _

__Grimm took the hand after a moment of hesitation._ _

__“Grimm. I was with the troupe in town, but they’ve left me behind. Now, I need a place to stay.” The handshake ended after Grimm’s explanation, and he glanced down to see that Iselda was now standing up, holding the Vessel in her arms like a child, their head on her shoulder._ _

__“Well, if it’s a house you need, my wife’s the one you’ll want to see.” Cornifer placed his hands on his hips, satisfied. Grimm turned his gaze to Iselda, but she appeared to be … glaring …?_ _

__“I was planning to go exploring with my husband, but when he told me he’d mapped every area, I decided I would find another way to occupy my time.” The female mosquito looked Grimm up and down. “You. What do you plan to do with such a small, innocent, defenseless bug?”_ _

__Grimm blinked in surprise. The woman, clearly she’d been offset by the troupe’s existence. She’d probably even been one of those people who’d shut up the place if Grimm walked by. He released a quiet sigh, and gave a light bow._ _

__“My name is _Grimm_ , Iselda, and _that_ is my current companion.” Grimm’s words were suave, carefully correcting her while also showing as much respect as he could bear to. Across from him, the woman held the Vessel like a small child, even supporting his bottom with one of her arms. Grimm held out his hand, and the knight leapt to his arm, like a sugar glider, before crawling up and attaching him to the former troupe master’s neck in a sort of clingy hug. Grimm had to fight the urge to smile victoriously. Iselda released a sigh and leaned against the desk, resting her chin in her hand. _ _

__“I find it hard to believe that they would choose you for their company.”_ _

__“I’m sure you would. You appear to be judging me on instinct alone.”_ _

__“My instinct has never lied before.”_ _

__“Well, regardless of your _instinct_ , we’d like to buy a home. Sleeping in caves is less than … preferred.” _ _

__“I’m booked.”_ _

__The air grew stale. Grimm stared at this bloodsucking woman for what felt like minutes, but was likely only a few moments. He hadn’t even given a time or day. For her to refuse them so blatantly was … terrible for her business, but also incredibly rude. He was completely aware that he’d been part of something gruesome. However, now he’d been abandoned. He had no connections to the troupe or their deeds. It was difficult, being put in a situation where his past could be affecting his chances to find shelter with the Vessel. He didn’t want to hinder them any more than he already had. Just as Grimm began to think, something happened._ _

__The Vessel leapt off of Grimm and onto the desk in front of Iselda and Cornifer, and began to … mime? They walked back and forth on the desk, their arms moving wildly. Sometimes they jabbed with an imaginary nail, other times, they got onto one knee and appeared to be cuddling something. One mime in particular Grimm recalled as being an imitation of him waving his cape. It was a detailed charade that lasted a few minutes._ _

__Grimm stared at the knight on the table in complete confusion and disbelief. How could anyone make sense of that? Grimm understood certain actions, and even sometimes could read the vibes, but for a story as complex as what the Vessel just did? How was that ever going to get across?_ _

__“I see,” Iselda said, her arms crossed, with one hand holding her chin in thought. Grimm blinked. S-See what? “So this stylish sort...he’s helped you.” Her eyes moved from the Vessel to Grimm, who tensed. In front of him, on the desk, the Vessel nodded twice deeply. “I see. Well, then I have no choice.”_ _

__Iselda pulled a pamphlet from her stack and leaned onto the desk, unfolding it and spreading it into a map. Her chin went into her right hand and her left hand moved to point out features of the map. Grimm stepped a bit closer, and the Vessel plopped down into a sitting position next to the map on the desk. Seeing as the conflict seemed resolved, Cornifer hummed as he went to reorganize their back bookshelf._ _

__“I can take you to any of these,” Iselda said. “There is no area I can not go to. And, with the Infection having been repelled, houses are plentiful. For the time being. We must act quickly.”_ _

__“We don’t know where to start,” Grimm said, a light frown etched into his features. Immediately, as if to refute his claim, the Vessel plopped their paw on the Queen’s Gardens. They tapped it repeatedly, and a small smile appeared on Iselda’s face. Grimm hadn’t seen that on the pamphlet before._ _

__“The Queen’s Gardens is a sort of sacred monument to the White Lady,” she said, tapping on what appeared to be a small building on the map. “She resides here and has ever since the early days of Hallownest, from what I’ve heard. I’m not aware of any homes in the area, and we would need to gain Her Majesty’s permission, but … it’s not impossible.”_ _

__The Vessel continued to tap, until Grimm carefully took their hand with two of his fingers to stop the noise. They looked up, and Grimm lifted them up onto his shoulders. While the Vessel wasn’t entirely sure why this had occurred, they seemed content, and rested their hands on Grimm’s minor horns. The former troupe master sighed. He supposed he couldn’t say no, not in the position that he was in._ _

__“When are you available to …,” faltered Grimm, who saw that Iselda was already pulling on a backpack and pecking Cornifer on the cheek, causing the mosquito to blush. Something else caught his attention - she pulled a nail, long and elegant, out from the shadow of the bookcase. It reminded him of Hornet’s needle, though it didn’t seem to have any thread attached. She hooked the blade onto a belt, and stepped out._ _

__“We’ll be going now.” The words came as a statement, and when she passed Grimm, she raised a hand to brush the Vessel’s cheek. Grimm narrowed his eyes in an irritated fashion before following._ _

__Their journey was something that Grimm was hardly used to. He was used to travelling in style with a caravan, the travelling troupe, not trudging through the overgrown wilderness that was now Hallownest. Iselda led the way, the Vessel behind her, and Grimm bringing up the end of their little train. They climbed down the well and this time went West - the direction opposite the Temple where Grimm had gone to aid his companion._ _

__The Forgotten Crossroads, in contrast to when Grimm had last been here, were uneventful. Some areas were empty, other areas had bugs who’d regained their consciousness huddled in small circles, uncertain where to go with their new lives given to them. Grimm saw what he thought to be tiny villages forming, small groups of newly awakened insects working together to ensure survival. The entire place looked the same, but the people gave it a different atmosphere. Instead of pulsing with bright infection, now it gave off an aura of hope._ _

__Grimm allowed his eyes to wander, but otherwise followed suit carefully behind Iselda and the Vessel. Iselda would occasionally make a comment on a particularly long drop, wondering aloud how Cornifer would deal with such a fall. She sounded like a housewife who’d only just now discovered what perils her husband had been facing - which, in a way, she was. Grimm was having similar thoughts, although they were more about the Vessel. How had they dealt with these pools of acid that were now being covered up with stone bridges by new workers? How had they gotten down such high cliffs without Grimm’s ability to levitate?_ _

__The pair continued through GreenPath, where it seemed the wildlife was being trimmed to give a neater, healthier appearance. A few individuals seemed to be foraging, while others seemed to be blankly staring at nothing at all. Grimm’s eyes drifted to the Vessel walking in front of him. Everything tied back to that dance in the temple. Their performance with that radiant moth seemed to have caused some sort of fallout, a chain reaction. Suddenly the bugs all seemed better, and the world was acting as if the hand choking it had suddenly been released. It was breathing again. This … didn’t seem to be as dangerous as Grimm had thought it to be, at least not now. However, the number of bugs he saw alluded to how dangerous it may have been before their show._ _

__

__“Be careful,” Iselda said as they neared what appeared to be a drop off point. Even from his spot in their line, Grimm could see bubbles leaking out of the area below. “Fog Canyon is beyond this drop point, but we need to go through to reach the Queen’s Gardens. Stay close, and watch your step.”_ _

__With those final words, Iselda hopped down the dropoff._ _

__Grimm raised an eyebrow, but completely widened his eyes as the Vessel followed through without a second thought. Grimm squeezed his eyes shut in regret. Requesting this woman’s help was a detriment to their health. She was going to get them killed, and by _them_ , Grimm meant his partner. He released a low grown before following them, leaping down the dropoff point and watching the bubbles drift past him as he landed lightly on his feet. What he saw was similar to GreenPath, but with a light fog and bubbles in addition to it. He began to move to the West after Iselda and the Vessel, but she held out her arm to stop him. Grimm was less than pleased. _ _

__“Be careful,” she said, and just then a strange creature made of a soft bulb and flexible tentacles drifted lazily by. Grimm...hadn’t seen it. Perhaps this fog clouded even his vision. Not that he was particularly sharp in terms of perception, not in something this mundane._ _

__“Hmph.”_ _

__“....I saved you, and that’s how you react?”_ _

__

__“Hmm?”_ _

__Iselda didn’t seem to buy Grimm’s faux ignorance act, but the former troupe master simply wanted to move on. The fact that this housewife-turned-warrior didn’t like him made things more tense. The cave campfire with the knight was almost looking like a luxury at this point. Did they even need Iselda? Did they really need a house? With a little work that cave could maybe be perfectly hospitable…_ _

__While Grimm daydreamed about a life without Iselda, she and the Vessel had already moved on. She seemed to stare seriously into the fog for a few moments before hopping down, and the Vessel soon followed with Grimm shortly after. When the infection had taken hold, the creatures in Fog Canyon had been nearly stationary, making their paths predictable. Now, they were freed, and their natural state seemed to be something much more flexible. They drifted unpredictably, which made the area difficult to navigate. Grimm mentally crossed this location off of their list. It was a death trap._ _

__They were able to navigate the area by following Iselda’s cautious lead. She lead them to a small platform, but in front of them was a wall of thorns that stopped just short of a pool of bubbling acid. He looked to Iselda, who caught his gaze, and the two locked eyes for a moment._ _

___This is the best you can come up with? Are you trying to kill us?_ _ _

___It’s the best way! It’s the only way! I figured this would be cleaned up by now._ _ _

__Grimm tore his eyes away out of sheer defiance, only to find that the Vessel had hopped into the acid. They seemed to be covered in a sheer bubble aura of sorts, and swam beneath the thorns just fine. They seemed to be full of surprises. Next to Grimm, Iselda gasped._ _

__“We need to get to them,” she muttered, and began to pace. Perhaps she was right, there really was no other way. Otherwise, she would have gone straight for it. Grimm held out a hand and bowed._ _

__“If you don’t mind, I may have a solution.” He grinned. “In agreeing, you forfeit the right to blame me for any discomforts you may have.”_ _

__Iselda seemed uncomfortable at this, but one glance back showed her that the Vessel was now out of sight. She seemed to think that they were some small, fragile, incapable being, but Grimm knew better. He could trust them to survive, at the very least, while he managed to force this enemy of his to rely on him. What a wonderful way to build trust, after all._ _

__“Fine,” Iselda said after a long, heavy pause. She took his hand, and Grimm’s long fingers wrapped around it slowly, like a venus flytrap catching a fly._ _

__There was suddenly a puff of smoke, and the pair had disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the acid puddle and thorn wall. Next to them, the Vessel climbed out of the acid, shaking their body vigorously, similarly to a dog. When they finished, they looked up innocently to Iselda, who was hiding behind Grimm, and the former troupe master, who had tiny holes burning in his cloak from the acid droplets. He released a sigh at the inconvenience before leaning forward and patting the Vessel on the head, who seemed to radiate a happier aura. Iselda stepped back and sighed, glancing at the road ahead of them._ _

__“This is the gate to the Queen’s Gardens,” she said, one hand on her hip while the other waved to display the grand sight. It was a large stone set of doors that held several engravings of ornate patterns in the material. They stood open, though, and while the inside looked beautiful, it also struck Grimm as incredibly crowded. It was as if nature had overtaken this stage and grown into its own sort of wild, beautiful chaos. If it were better taken care of, Grimm could see it befitting a queen. As it was now, though, it fit some sort of jungle empress._ _

__The Vessel passed Grimm to catch up with Iselda, and the pair began to move towards the gate, entering the gardens. Grimm took after them, and for a moment, he wondered. Why did the Vessel want to come _here_? They seemed to have known their way around Hallownest. With a nail that decorative and combat prowess on this level, they had to have been around. So why here, of all places? He could ask the Vessel themself, but he wasn’t sure he’d get much of an intelligible answer. All he could do for now was follow along and observe._ _

__Shortly after passing through the gate, they were met with another dropoff point, although there seemed to be rickety metal platforms. They seemed less than reliable, and Grimm wasn’t one for taking such risks. Upon taking a closer look, he could see hinges connecting the platforms to iron tracks. They were _supposed_ to collapse. Well, it seemed that the Queen had a way to guard her gardens carefully. If they chose to make this place their home, it would be a challenge to get to, that was for certain. Maybe… _too_ much of a challenge. Did Grimm want to run a marathon just to travel home? Absolutely not. _ _

__In front of the group, the Vessel stood, looking over the dropoff. They seemed to be … thinking._ _

__“Don’t do it,” Grimm caught himself saying. No response. “Knight, I swear upon the flames, if you do this I’ll - ”_ _

__The Vessel jumped._ _

__Grimm rushed to the dropoff and was prepared to leap, but the Vessel seemed to be navigating the platforms just fine. They hopped and dashed, and it almost looked like a dance. Grimm stood in shock, but next to him, Iselda gave a nod._ _

__“I see. That shouldn’t be too difficult…”_ _

__She leapt after the Vessel, and Grimm narrowed his eyes as she followed his lead. What was _happening?_ No, no. He shouldn’t be surprised. The time to be surprised was when the Vessel was fighting a celestial moth. The time to be surprised was when Iselda stopped him from walking into a floating membrane. He just … had to accept this. The former troupe master, however, was not about to jump from space to space. Not when he had his magic available to him. He stepped off the drop point and walked along the wall as if it were a continuation of the path, his body horizontal to the field of thorns below. He turned, and reoriented himself when he reached the thorny floor. For Grimm, it was just another walk. In front of him, however, he could make out the noises of effort from Iselda and the tiny pattering noises from the Vessel’s footsteps and hopping. _ _

__The group rendezvoused at the end of the thorny path, and the Vessel watched expectantly as Grimm finally rounded the last curve in his stroll. Iselda had her hands on her knees and was catching her breath. Grimm nodded at the Vessel before looking to their guide, expecting an explanation._ _

__“It’s...been some time since I’ve gone through such a rigorous path,” she huffed. It didn’t take her long to recover, though, and shortly after she stood up straight and stretched. In the time it took her to recover, Grimm looked over their surroundings. The air seemed to glisten with particles of … light? He wasn’t sure if it was a trick or illusion, or just...a testament to how magical this area seemed to be. The prickly path had ended just short of what seemed to be a building, or an observatory of sorts. There were many windows and … upon approaching, Grimm saw two figures lying upon the ground ahead. The sight made Grimm pause, but he felt a tug on his hand, and he looked down to see his companion holding his hand once more, staring straight at the figures. Grimm took it as encouragement, and walked forward._ _

__There were two corpses._ _

__One appeared to be a praying mantis of sorts, and was in rough shape. It was riddled with cuts, but more noticeably it was completely and utterly _beaten_. Cracks in its shell and crookedness in its limbs suggested it’d been bludgeoned by something relentlessly. There were two kinds of weapon marks, had there been a dance? Grimm glanced down to the Vessel, who was still staring ahead at the second body. It was almost as if they were … hypnotized. Perhaps they were just … remembering something? He wasn’t certain. Grimm followed their gaze and saw a somewhat large cicada, with a large laceration wound across her abdomen. The edges of the wound seemed to be tainted in a light orange … was that rust? No… infection. Next to the cicada lay a large club of sorts. It looked similar to a tooth, or a stalactite, but one thing was for certain - this was the cause for the bludgeoning damage on the mantis. And those cut markings on the mantis? Grimm glanced at the Vessel’s nail. _ _

__“You were her friend?” Grimm’s voice was almost casual. He lacked the ability to be much more sympathetic. He was more somber than anything else, he supposed._ _

__The Vessel nodded._ _

__“You fought together, here. Was it a wonderful performance?”_ _

__The Vessel shook their head._ _

__“What would you change about your performance, if you could, young knight?”_ _

__The Vessel bowed their head. Grimm wasn’t sure if they were thinking, or if they’d thought the answer obvious. Grimm released a sigh. This was … an unpleasant conversation to have. He wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but … he wanted to give the Vessel support. Clearly they were upset, though they didn’t show it like most individuals. Grimm took a knee, and wrapped an arm around the Vessel, pulling them close, almost like a child._ _

__“You are … strong enough to fight something like this.” Grimm pointed to the mantis, and the Vessel nodded slowly. “This leads me to believe … that this cicada, she came of her own volition.” Again, they nodded slowly. “Had she seen your brilliant act before?” The Vessel gave a nod. Grimm found himself giving the softest of smiles, which was indeed a first for him. “Like me, I believe she was dazzled by your light. She must have held great admiration and respect for you, small one. When your curtain rose, she made her entrance, and delighted in the opportunity to perform with her idol of admiration. Do you think this to be true?”_ _

__Next to him, wrapped in Grimm’s arm, the Vessel gave the smallest of nods. It was a tiny gesture, and they had been doing it quite often. However, perhaps they really _did_ know everything Grimm was saying. Or perhaps Grimm was spot on. Either way, they seemed to be appreciating the former troupe master’s efforts. _ _

__“She may have reached the end of her career, but … she did so fantastically, doing what she wished to. You’ve no reason to mourn over such an inspirational individual. You can only honor her by continuing to shine that same light that ignited her spirit. I’m sure she would want that for you.”_ _

__The Vessel nodded, and finally turned towards Grimm with their hands up. The former troupe master sighed before picking up the knight, after which they promptly climbed to sit atop his shoulders. They rested their head on Grimm’s head, right between his horns, with their hands resting on the sides of Grimm’s face. Grimm shortly heard footsteps, and Iselda stepped up behind them._ _

__“Sorry about the … what happened?”_ _

__“We should continue moving. This way?”_ _

__Iselda didn’t question him, and even though he passed her, she caught up with him quickly. They continued west, past the corpses, and out from under the observatory. The air seemed to glisten even more, although now there were large dragonflies dazedly drifting overhead. It seemed...peaceful. The rest of the gardens, Green Path, the Forgotten Crossroads, they all seemed to be in a current state of chaos given the conditions they’d just woken up from, but here? Time seemed to be still. As they continued, they approached what appeared to be another temple of sorts, although outside, there were soldiers strewn about. Full bodies of armor that seemed to have just … collapsed._ _

__“According to my information, the White Lady is within these walls,” Iselda said, crossing her arms. “I’ll stay outside. All you need to do is ask if there are any inhabitable homes in this area, and if you’ll be permitted to stay.”_ _

__Grimm stepped forward into the building, ducking so as not to hit his head or his knight on the entrance. As he strolled down the hallway, it became more and more present. The walls were becoming interwoven with … roots. They made up more and more of the walls as he went further in. Suddenly, as Grimm could see a light at the end of the tunnel, the Vessel climbed down his thin body and rushed forward. Grimm hurried after him, to discover a sight unlike anything he had seen before._ _

__Before them existed a large, celestial sort of creature. The color was a bright white, something that radiated a pure aura. However, this creature was also bound by what appeared to be a tube-like fabric that seemed to restrain her. Her eyes seemed to glisten with what looked to be cataracts, and atop her head were the very roots Grimm had seen ingrained in the rest of this home. Was it a home? Or...was it a prison?_ _

__“You! You have returned, and you bring company.” The voice that spoke came from the higher being, and it held an air of maturity and kindness._ _

__Next to him, the Vessel stepped forward, gazing up at what Grimm could only assume was the White Lady._ _

__“You are both welcome to visit me, though you should feel no obligation to. I have restrained myself here of my own accord, and do not expect others to bend to my existence. I have done that for far too long.” Her tone was almost somber, somewhat...sad. Her blurry gaze focused on Grimm. “My kin of void and Wyrm and root has brought you before me. Why?”_ _

__The seriousness in her gaze made Grimm hesitate. It wasn’t that she was intimidating. When it came to a matter of intimidation, Grimm would never lose. No, this was … a menacing display of power. This woman, this root, towered over him, and her tendrils pulsed with power. Even restrained, the former troupe master was certain she surpassed him in ability. She was a queen for a reason, he supposed._ _

__“Your majesty, the knight wishes to inhabit your garden.” He glanced down to the Vessel, who nodded several times quickly. They seemed almost excited to be here. “We seek shelter and a place to call home.”_ _

__The White Lady leaned a bit closer, her tendrils pulling a bit taut as she did so before she leaned back again._ _

__“You are unhappy.”_ _

__The words caught Grimm off-guard, as well as the Vessel. The knight suddenly turned to look at Grimm, as if expecting an explanation. Grimm remained staring at this White Lady. How could she tell such things? Regardless, he was hardly unhappy! Who did she think he was, telling him how he felt?_ _

__“There is darkness in your heart, twisted and angry.” The White Lady’s words were calm as usual, but they seemed to strike through Grimm like spears. Could she be talking about … ? “You have struggled for quite some time, dark one. Yet, there is a flame in your heart.” She paused. “Do you intend to harm this little one?”_ _

__Grimm could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Was it … his heart? Doubt suddenly returned to him. Something about this woman, this root, brought … terrible thoughts to the surface. Perhaps he’d been putting on an act, living in his own magnum opus, and now it was all crumbling as he was reminded just what his reality was. He desperately wanted to rid himself of his darkness, of the Nightmare Heart, but … he was _born_ with it. It created him, and he would never be able to escape it, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he could. That was what this woman was saying. _ _

__A light tug on his cloak brought Grimm to reality, and he noticed he’d been standing oddly still, and that he felt slightly light-headed. Was he pale? He glanced down to see the knight looking up at him. No, it … it would be fine. He had the Vessel here. They’d fought to save Hallownest, and they’d stayed with Grimm through his struggle against the Nightmare Heart. They weren’t giving up on him, and it would be an insult to his reputation if he weren’t to respect the sentiment by charging forward. The White Lady’s question still hung in the air, and her milky eyes were set on him, patiently awaiting an answer. Despite that, it felt like … she knew what he would say. Grimm smoothed his cloak and composed himself._ _

__“Bringing harm to this little ghost is the last thing I intend to do.” Grimm raised his gaze to meet the White Lady’s eyes. He could almost see his reflection in their shimmer. “I was born of a heart of nightmares, and it is true that for much of my existence, including my creation, it has gripped my soul. However, the flame that you see ignited within me…,” Grimm brought his right hand up to his chest, opening his cloak. His body was thin, but in his chest there appeared to be a single ball of fire. “This flame was ignited by the Vessel.”_ _

__The White Lady listened carefully, and her eyes closed for a moment. She appeared to be accepting what was said. Grimm closed his cloak, and looked down to the knight, who suddenly wrapped themselves around his left leg, nuzzling his knee. The former troupe master looked up to the queen._ _

__“I have fought my fate, denied my destiny, refused to allow such a shamble of a show to go on… This darkness and anger you see, it must be the lingering effects of my existence. I harbor no ill will towards this … ankle biter.” Grimm’s eyes drifted towards the Vessel, who either hadn’t heard or hadn’t cared to react. “We seek a place to live peacefully. They were drawn here, by what I can only guess to be your presence.”_ _

__Only now did the White Lady open her eyes. There was a sort of gentleness in them that made Grimm uncomfortable. Any other time, he might have dismissed himself with a flourish of his cloak, but right now he wasn’t only here for him. He was here for his knight, as well._ _

__“I am flattered, that you would feel such ties to me despite my past transgressions.” One of the queen’s tendrils moved down to lightly caress the side of the Vessel’s mask, briefly gaining their attention. “However, I am bound here. Your company is welcome, but I fear that my garden is hardly a place to build a home, let alone a family.”_ _

__At the final word, Grimm’s eyes widened. Who said anything about a family? They were just looking for a place to live that wasn’t a cave! Besides, they were both … entities? Grimm was unaware how to reproduce, and, could the Vessel do that? No! What was he thinking? That wasn’t of importance, not now. Children were impossible. Pestilent little things, running around and being needy and annoying…_ _

__The Vessel detached from Grimm’s leg, the former troupe master hardly noticing in his sudden shock from the six letter f-word being dropped. They trotted up to the White Lady, and managed to attempt a hug at her feet. It was hardly an embrace, though, given how magnificently large she was, and so a white tendril moved forward, wrapping delicately around her child. She lifted them up, and gently touched their mask to her forehead._ _

__“How I wish things could be different,” she murmured. “But I know this is how it must be. With the Hollow Knight defeated, the Radiance banished, and the minds of Hallownest’s residents restored...you are finally free.” Her voice took on a morose tone, something that almost sounded as if tears were on the horizon, but it was difficult to tell when her eyes glistened so beautifully naturally. “You are free from our sins, free from our curse, and … free to do as you please.” The tendril slowly lowered down the knight. The process was almost painstakingly slow, as if releasing the Vessel was the last thing the White Lady wished for._ _

__Grimm had watched after the White Lady had plucked his knight from the ground, and now, listening to her words, he realized...he had many questions. Was it his place to really ask? The Vessel...had no voice. Grimm knew that much. If he waited for the Vessel to open up to him, to tell him exactly what he’d been doing down in Hallownest amongst acid and lethal floating membranes, would he even understand? Would they be able to communicate?_ _

__Grimm could only trust that they would. They’d come this far, and he’d had some sort of strange understanding of the knight and their ways. It was difficult, far more difficult than just speaking words, but at the same time, it also felt more meaningful. The former troupe master was certain that, when the Vessel did tell him about their journey, and about what sins this queen was talking about, it would mean all the more. Grimm cleared his throat, causing the Vessel to turn around and trot back to him. They looked up him before turning back to their queen._ _

__“We will heed your advice,” Grimm said calmly. “We will make our home elsewhere, but … do not expect this to be the last time you see us.” Grimm gave a bow before turning to return down the hallway._ _

__“The Vessel is strong,” the White Lady replied as he left, “but I trust...that you will do your best to support him. I leave them in your care.” Grimm looked over his shoulder as he walked._ _

__“I always play my role to perfection, your majesty.” With those final words, he faded from the White Lady’s blurring view, and she closed her eyes. There was darkness and anger in his heart, yes, but she’d also seen a light. Something small, barely a flicker, but … something pure. Had the Vessel been able to cause such a change? Were they … ?_ _

___Oh, my._ The queen chuckled to herself quietly as their footsteps faded._ _

__***_ _

__Grimm stepped out of the building to see Isleda, looking over a map while sitting cross-legged in the grass. The Vessel next to him ran forward and hopped over the map and into her lap, causing Grimm to clench his fists slightly before relaxing. It was alright, his knight could enjoy the company of individuals other than him. It was frustrating, but it was the truth. When they hopped into her lap, Iselda gave the Vessel a smile._ _

__“Did things go well?” Odd. She seemed to be a bit more pleasant._ _

__“Her Majesty has told us that the garden in which she rests is not a stage suitable for a play.” There was a moment of silence, and Grimm sighed. “She said no, in short.”_ _

__“Unfortunate, huh?” Iselda’s voice almost cooed as she rubbed the top of the Vessel’s head. “Did you have a second place in mind?”_ _

__Grimm cleared his throat. He’d been waiting for this._ _

__“Well,” he said, his voice smooth as he stepped gracefully behind Iselda, “there _was_ this place that I thought to be quite interesting. The Deep Nest, it was called?” _ _

__In Iselda’s lap, the Vessel stiffened, and shook their head several times. Grimm blinked in surprise. This warrior had fought through all of Hallownest, it seemed. They’d fought an abomination and a moth deity, called the Radiance. Yet, it seemed that at the suggestion of the Deep Nest, they faltered. What had happened there? Perhaps his question was communicated in his confused stare, because the Vessel hopped off of Iselda’s lap and made eye contact with Grimm. They suddenly wrapped their cloak around themselves tightly, so tightly it could restrict their movement, and then assumed a squatting position. They wiggled back and forth, as if attempting to break free. Grimm blinked._ _

__“...You fear the arachnids.”_ _

__The knight popped up into a standing position, their cloak now assuming its natural flowy position, and gave several quick nods. Iselda looked to Grimm in surprise._ _

__“You got that out of that charade?”_ _

__“How could you not understand? They were quite clear.” Grimm’s words dripped with pride. He cleared his throat. “It seems something happened. They restrained you as they do their prey, and … secured you to … a bench? Of some sort?” Again, the Vessel nodded, although this time, appeared more distressed. “I suppose that could be jarring.” Grimm knew what it was like to be bound, at the mercy of another party. At least he’d had the peace of mind knowing that he was _needed_ by this other party, that he wouldn’t just be … consumed. The former troupe master took a knee, and rested a comforting hand on top of the Vessel’s head. “You needn’t worry. We will stay away, if that place is that … welcoming.” _ _

__“Then pick your next tourist destination,” Iselda sighed. “I recommend the City of Tears, where housing is plentiful, or maybe the Forgotten Crossroads, where there are still a few housing districts from before the plight.”_ _

__Grimm and his knight made eye contact for a moment, and gave a nod._ _

__“The City of Tears, then.” It sounded scenic, and the Vessel didn’t tense up when Grimm mentioned it. In addition, if housing was easy to come by, hopefully they could end this wild chase before too long. They’d been at it since sunrise. Grimm was ready to sleep._ _

__“Sure,” Iselda said, rolling up her map and carefully putting it into a canister before shoving it into her bag. She took care of her maps, just like they were gifts from Cornifer. Perhaps they were. She got to her feet and began to lead the way out, hopping down into the thorny path. The Vessel followed, and again, Grimm simply walked. She began to lead them back to the Fog Canyon, put had to pause to catch her breath once more. Once she recovered, she stretched her arms above her head. “In order to reach the City of Tears, we’ll need to take the Queen’s Station stag to the King’s Station. We can get to the Queen’s Station through the Fog Canyon, though, so it won’t be much trouble.”_ _

__Grimm had doubt in her words, and he was right to._ _

__Navigating the Fog Canyon was absolute Hell. It was difficult to see in the fog, and, in addition, enemies were drifting by at every turn. Grimm was ready to torch them all, but Iselda had warned him that they were not actively seeking him out. Avoiding their tendrils was the easiest way to pass, as their tendrils were their self-defense organs. Against his better judgment, Grimm did as he was told._ _

__The group reached the Queen’s Station - a relic of a building that was now bustling with life. Some were building on the station, making repairs the years of decay had created, others were performing for small crowds, a handful were seated, looking hopeless and lost, while others still were handing out what Grimm could only guess to be food. The Station seemed to be a hotspot for bugs without a clue where to begin their lives over. Without realizing, Grimm had stopped to look at the bugs in the station, and his hand was tugged by a much smaller one. He turned his head to see that the Vessel was leading him, this time, off their platform. Grimm tensed as he fell freely through the air, but he landed lightly on the ground._ _

__“A warning, knight,” he grumbled, but the Vessel continued to pull him after Iselda, who led them to the western wing on the bottom floor. Despite the large number of bugs in the main foyer area of the station, this wing only had a few bystanders. Grimm eyed them with disinterest before following Iselda and the Vessel, who promptly jumped up and smacked a bell on the edge of the platform. There was the sound of heavy, stampeding footsteps. They shook the tunnel next to the platform and, for a moment, Grimm worried there was an earthquake of some kind._ _

__From the tunnel emerged a scraggly stag beetle, huffing a grunting from the trip he’d made to reach the Queen’s Station. He was equipped with a saddle, as well. Grimm could only imagine that this was … a way of transportation. Iselda gave a smile and pat the Vessel’s head before climbing on. The knight gave a bow to the stag beetle before leaping up onto the saddle, leaving Grimm to eye their new escort._ _

__“It has been some time since the little one has rang my bell,” he said in an old, raspy voice. “And with company, to boot. Glad to have you.”_ _

__Grimm said nothing in response, and merely climbed onto the stag, riding sidesaddle with his legs crossed. He could not _believe_ he was traveling via dusty insect. However, the Vessel seemed comfortable, and Grimm had subconsciously put that above his own happiness somewhere along their journey._ _

__“Where to,” the old stag grunted._ _

__“King’s Station, please,” Iselda said, giving the saddle a pat. The stag grunted in acknowledgement, and his body began to bob up and down as he began to run down the tunnel. Iselda was sitting in front, and seemed to be holding tightly to the saddle. On the other hand, the Vessel seemed to be holding a piece of seatbelt in each hand, but had lacked the time to buckle it, and now was being violently shaken like a rag doll on the bumpy ride. The image made Grimm cover his mouth to stifle a laugh. He quickly shook off the urge and plucked the Vessel from the saddle, seating them in his lap, allowing his hands to function as a seatbelt of sorts. The Vessel set their hands on top of his with two pats before settling into their new position._ _

__After what felt like ten minutes of seeing nothing but dirt tunnels, they emerged to a platform similar to the one they’d departed from. Though now, they were on the Eastern side. Iselda quickly hopped off the stag beetle, and Grimm was quick to follow. He wanted to be in that filthy seat as little as possible. He cradled the Vessel in the crook of his right arm, and hopped off._ _

__“If you need me again, just ring the bell,” the old stag called. “Things’ve been real busy since...yesterday.” Down the tunnel, the distant ringing of a bell could be heard, and he released a tired sigh. “Duty calls.” With those words, he was gone._ _

__Grimm took in the scenery around him. It was … beautiful, similar to the Queen’s station, though this one had a more regal feel to it. He followed Iselda out of their platform and a similar sight awaited them. Some were giving out food, some still had that lost look. The difference seemed to be that here, there was some leadership. Some soldiers ushered some bugs towards a set of housing in the West. Whatever housing was supposedly here, it wouldn’t be here for long, if they were giving houses to anyone who asked. It made sense, given that these were survivors of the infection and that these homes were theirs before their minds were lost, but now … it made things tougher for Grimm and his companion._ _

__“Come,” Iselda said, grabbing Grimm’s left wrist and tugging him along like a child. He fought the urge to argue, now wasn’t the time. She seemed to know where she was going, at least, and she had no problem pushing bugs out of her way in a manner that didn’t throw them to the ground. They wove through the crowd, which was a bit strange considering Grimm’s height, until they were closer to the front of the group. No longer distracted by the crowd of bugs he risked stepping on, Grimm could see the world after they exited the station._ _

__Rain seemed to sprinkle from the sky, so lightly that Grimm may not have noticed it, but looking up allowed him to see that it was, in fact, raining. Underground. The idea perplexed him, but he tried not to pay it any mind. The accuracy of a weather cycle wasn’t exactly of his concern. As they continued farther in, it became apparent why this was a city, as opposed to a town. Unlike Dirtmouth, the structures in the City of Tears had a large, magnificent type of architecture, with arches and glasswork that Grimm hadn’t seen before. The buildings were tall, ascending into the stream of rain, with several doors visible. The bugs who’d lived here before the infection had spread, before the Radiance had tightened its hold on the kingdom, must have lived in groups._ _

__“What floor?” The words came from Iselda, and Grimm looked to the Vessel in his arm, who in turn looked at him. They held out a hand. Were they supposed to be holding up fingers?_ _

__“First.” Grimm said the word in slight uncertainty, but the Vessel put their hand back down and seemed to approve. He must have gotten that right, at least._ _

__“Prepare to jump,” she said, and at that moment, Grimm followed her lead in jumping over a small river channel. She slowed down, looking behind the group, and Grimm followed her gaze to see the rest of the bugs had stopped at the channel, worried about making the leap. Iselda sighed. “We don’t have very much time. I’m sure they’ll find a bridge. Take a look around while you can.”_ _

__Grimm set the Vessel onto the ground, and they began to walk. There was a tower of housing every ten feet or so, and they all looked remarkably similar. They had the same frames, same windows, same designs… all hallmarks of the bugs who had lived here before their lives were destroyed. Grimm was aware that they would be living in, essentially, someone else’s home. There hadn’t been time to clean things out. They weren’t starting with a clean slate. They were going to walk into a building and need to remove someone else’s belongings. Grimm had accepted it as fact, but … he had the feeling that the two individuals traveling with him would feel sympathy. Grimm watched the Vessel approach door after door, hopping up to look through the window, but finally, he stopped decidedly in front of one particular unit._ _

__This unit had the same architecture as the others, though with a slight difference. The door was tall, and the front window went all the way to the floor. Grimm supposed this was good - the Vessel would be able to look through the window, and he wouldn’t need to worry about hitting his head on the doorframe every day. The Vessel was currently halted in front of the window, looking in, and it led Grimm to stand behind them, cup his hands around his eyes and peer into the glass._ _

__The inside of the unit appeared messy, as if there’d been some sort of hasty retreat. There was a small table in the middle of the room with two mugs, various paintings on the walls of what appeared to be the abomination they’d met in the Temple, and one that appeared to be a regal leader of some sort. There was a sofa, though it looked old and worn and positively filthy. The curtains that had once concealed this window lay tattered on the inside. Grimm wasn’t sure what was waiting for them further into the building. His hand moved to open the door, but it didn’t budge. Locked._ _

__“Allow me, this is what I’m here for, after all,” Iselda said, pulling out a common key from her bag and stepping forward. She slid the key in smoothly before opening the door and waving them in. The Vessel began to walk forward, but Grimm picked them up by their mask, their arms and legs flailing helplessly._ _

__“Let me investigate, first, little ghost,” he said, and the flailing limbs suddenly dropped, defeated. Only then did the former troupe master set them back down and step inside._ _

__As he stepped inside, the quiet noise of rain on glass filled the eerie silence of the home he’d just stepped into. No, it wasn’t a home anymore. This was … just a room of memories for someone. There were blankets and clothes scattered across the floor, a few scrolls on what appeared to be a shelf, and the mugs on the table were empty. Grimm continued - after all, he’d seen this room through the window - through the hallway. The bedroom had what appeared to be a nest of dried grasses for a bed, along with an orb light - though the creatures within that produced the light were long dead. There was a closet with what appeared to be higher quality robes. It made sense. This city appeared to house the finer class of bugs. He moved on down the hallway to find what appeared to be a kitchen, with a wood burning stove and an ice box. The entire interior of this living space seemed to be made of some sort of blue crystal. It matched the exterior exactly. Grimm stepped further into the house to find a bathroom and what appeared to be a storage room._ _

__This would suffice, he decided. While he wasn’t yet sure exactly what he would be doing, nor had he ever seen himself settling into one place before, he knew one thing. He wanted to stay with the Vessel. And, while the Vessel didn’t seem to need rest, he knew that without the Nightmare Heart to fuel his ambitions, Grimm would tire. He would need a place to sleep and … this would be that place. It would serve as their rendezvous point of sorts, their backstage. He was uncertain what the future held, but it held the both of them, and that brought him comfort._ _

__Grimm took a deep breath. This filthy unit would not do, however. It was beneath him, and far beneath what his knight deserved. He opened his cloak, and fiery apparitions began to manifest, sweeping out of his cloak, however, Grimm snapped his fingers and they all halted what was inevitably about to be a reign of carnage._ _

__“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but this place is terrible.” Grimm’s words were low, calm, and strict. “I expect it to be much, _much_ better by the time you all return. Am I understood?” _ _

__The draconic apparitions merely stared at him, and Grimm cleared his throat._ _

___”If this housing unit is not up to my personal fashion code in the next two minutes, you’ll all be drowning in the waters I crossed to arrive here. Am I clear?”_ The words that left Grimm’s mouth were in a low, demonic growl, and the draconic apparitions answered by sweeping through the apartment. Grimm cleared his throat. “I do loathe doing that. It’s hard on the vocal cords.” _ _

__Grimm strolled out of the unit and quietly shut the door. Iselda raised an eyebrow._ _

__“Do they not get to see it?” Her words were said in a challenging tone as she waved a hand to the Vessel, who was now looking up at Grimm with almost a sad gaze._ _

__“They will,” Grimm assured the duo. “Just give me a moment.”_ _

__The sounds of crashing, whooshing, and flames were audible even from outside, causing Iselda and the Vessel to stare at the former troupe master, who had his face turned as far away from their direction as possible. In the window, bright flashes of red indicated something heinous was afoot, and Iselda tapped her foot with her arms crossed disapprovingly. Grimm felt her suspicious glare, but said nothing, until she finally pushed past him and opened the door._ _

__“I can explain,” he started, but she merely stood with her mouth agape. Grimm, satisfied, opened his cloak, and the three fiery dragons returned to his flame. “I simply … did some redecorating.”_ _

__The three of them entered, and it seemed to be an entirely new home. The floors were made of a black marble, the sofa was restored with a new red background with black accents on the cushions. The fabrics were all cleared up, and the table was a new slick shade of black, with the walls painted black and the shelf and painting frames a scarlet red. They all continued, and the theme remained the same, although the nest of a bed was now a queen-sized bed of sewn leaves complete with a cloth blanket and cotton ball pillows, all matching Grimm’s aesthetic. Grimm cleared his throat, and managed a smile._ _

__“Iselda, thank you _so_ much for your help, but I think we’ll be taking this one. It’s just perfect, you see.” He leaned forward and plucked the common key from her bag, slowly pushing her back towards the door. Iselda, still dazed from shock, finally snapped out of it. _ _

__“You can’t just take it, I should be compensated,” she frowned. She made this point just as she crossed the threshold outside of their home, and she stood, with her hands on her hips, stubbornly. Grimm paused. He...didn’t have any money._ _

__Luckily, from behind him, the Vessel produced a large burlap sack labeled “geo”. Iselda smiled and patted them on the head, giving a wave before shutting the door and being on her way. Grimm stared at the Vessel in surprise, but they only climbed up Grimm’s leg, then his torso, and then hung around his neck. With a sigh, Grimm supported their bottom with his right arm and looked to his knight._ _

__“We’ll be living here, then,” Grimm said, and the Vessel nodded. “I haven’t...really known a home, other than the traveling troupe, but I’ve heard stories in my travels.” As he spoke, he moved to take a seat on the sofa. The Vessel continued to cling to his neck, but now was able to stand on his lap. “Stories about homes being places of rest, relaxation and recreation. Bugs enjoy them because they can be their true selves around their kin, bugs they enjoy.” Grimm reached forward, and pulled the helmet from the Vessel, exposing their abyssal form. Their eyes were now white, and the rest of their body was made of the dark tendrils Grimm had seen before. The knight’s tendrils seemed to waggle excitedly._ _

__“This is … a safe place,” Grimm continued, resting a hand on their head. This time, their eyes closed, as if they found the gesture pleasant. Touching an abyssal was strange, though, Grimm had to admit. It felt like touching a condensed ball of gasses - there was definitely something there, but it seemed to constantly be moving and shifting form. “You should feel free to be who you are. You don’t need your mask, here, ghost. I am trustworthy of your truest nature, I assure you.” Grimm leaned forward, lightly touching his forehead to his knight. “So I will trust you with mine.”_ _


	2. A New Troupe is Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimm's been restless ever since he and the Vessel settled into their home. With everyone finding their own ways to occupy their time, what will Grimm choose? What is his purpose beyond the Grimm Troupe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm so happy to hear all the feedback you've all been giving me, and I'm excited to post another chapter! I have big plans for the next chapter as well, so I hope you'll all stay tuned! 
> 
> As always, if you have comments, questions, or concerns you can always post them in the comment section. I try very hard to look often, so if there are inconsistencies or mistakes I can fix them quickly! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this work, and I look forward to hearing your feedback!

“Absolutely not.” 

The words were uttered from Grimm in almost exasperation as the little ghost looked to him expectantly with large, empty eyes. Grimm had been seated on the sofa, the daily paper unfolded in his hands, and the Vessel had entered only moments ago. The former troupe master didn’t even need to look to know what they wanted. The flapping of wings was evidence enough. 

“We are _not_ keeping that.” Grimm’s words were firm, but he still hadn’t lowered his newspaper. Things had changed drastically in Hallownest, and if he didn’t keep up on the current events, he and his Vessel would be in jeopardy, he was certain. It also provided an excellent distraction and was a perfect obstacle for avoiding puppy-dog eyes. 

Next to the Vessel, the Grimmchild flapped their wings, scarlet eyes glancing between Grimm and the little ghost with uncertainty. They were young, but even this creature could read the room. They nervously lowered, hovering behind the small warrior. Still, the flapping did continue, and Grimm knew very well that his partner hadn’t given up yet. With an groan of reluctance, Grimm folded the paper and set it on the table next to him. His gaze met his partner’s, and for a few moments, there was a silent stand-off. 

“The Grimmchild has ties to the Nightmare Heart, little one. Keeping them around will bring nothing but misfortune.” Grimm watched as the Vessel tilted their head, and he continued. “No, I severed my ties. I’m different, that child did nothing of the sort. The troupe could return and claim them as the heir to the operation.” 

Wordlessly, the Vessel pulled out their nail and held it up victoriously. 

“You can _not_ take on an entire troupe.” Grimm’s words were growing more and more exasperated. The Vessel tilted their head, as if to ask why. “Because no matter how strong you may be, you are still outnumbered. There are some things even _you_ are incapable of. You should acknowledge your limits, or you’ll hurt yourself.” 

Grimm’s tone softened slightly as he finished. He leaned forward, lifting up the Vessel and pulling them onto his lap. The Grimmchild remained where they’d been hovering, still hesitant as to what the outcome had been. Was this an improvement? They weren’t sure. In Grimm’s lap, the Vessel had let their nail lay on their lap, and allowed Grimm’s arms to wrap around them from behind in a sort of embrace. 

“Besides, this home is small. I’m not sure we can handle another presence.” Grimm had laid out his reasoning, his logic, yet the knight didn’t seem to want to back down. They looked up at Grimm, their horns lightly brushing against his chest, and then looked back towards the Grimmchild, who quickly rolled up into a ball and dropped to the ground. Grimm sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere. 

The former troupe master was quiet, and merely held his partner. Making decisions was difficult, especially when those impacted had such an adorable appeal to them. Gods, who was he? He’d softened since they’d found their home two months ago. He’d been stubborn and even cold sometimes, yet here he was cuddling the Vessel on their sofa within their tiny apartment in the City of Tears. 

After Iselda had handed over the keys, Grimm hadn’t been certain what to do. He’d lived his life putting on performances, and now his workplace had left him. His partner had a strange past, but from what Grimm knew, they were a warrior. Without the infection running rampant, what would they do? There was plenty of uncertainty. 

Those who’d recovered from the infection after the Radiance’s defeat had mostly found homes. Because the population had decreased from Hallownest’s prime, there were many houses to go around. Some left Hallownest and went on their own journeys. Some started new businesses. Tiny shops had opened all over the City of Tears, and the other districts of Hallownest had their own housing projects underway. 

Dangerous insentient creatures were rounded up and relocated. The Oomas and Uomas from Fog Canyon were moved to the Kingdom’s Edge, which served as a reservation of sorts. Belflies were carefully sedated and moved to shelters for rehabilitation, Mawleks were sent to a distant location so as not to upset the wildlife in Hallownest, and so on. Peace was restored, and the Elderbug, despite his protests, was given a temporary leadership title. The people needed someone to give guidance on rebuilding the city, and he was the closest bug to a leader that anyone could find. 

Under his leadership, the tram within the Deepnest was repaired, mining continued in the Crystal Peaks, and the heart of Hallownest had begun to beat once more. This time, the bugs of this kingdom leaned on one another instead of the shoulders of a single entity. This way, they hoped to avoid their previous mistakes. 

But this didn’t help Grimm, or his partner, find work. 

The Vessel seemed content from Grimm’s standpoint. They’d occasionally left the apartment to survey the area, as had Grimm, but they hadn’t seemed to be doing anything of great importance. The former troupe master supposed that there wasn’t much harm in _not_ working. Rent wasn’t exactly something that bugs were concerned about, so long as you were earning your keep and contributing to the group. However, if Grimm and the tiny ghost stayed here without an occupation, they may find themselves questioned as Hallownest grew more and more organized. 

But what could he do? He was a performer, he knew a few magic tricks. He could fight, he supposed, but those brutes in the colosseum hardly matched his tastes. He didn’t suit the mines, nor the hive. The Deepnest fit his aesthetic, but he was no weaver. He didn’t seem to belong anywhere, really. The idea of not fitting in wasn’t one that necessarily disturbed Grimm, but rather, he knew he needed to do something for his Ghost. Despite how the Ghost looked at him and seemed completely unbothered, Grimm had a feeling they would worry if he didn’t make himself useful. His eyes drifted back to the Grimmchild, who was making a fantastic performance out of playing the part of a ball.

“Give me time,” Grimm finally said, and the Vessel tilted their head upwards to look at the former troupe master. He steadily met the gaze of empty sockets, and reached forward, pulling the helmet off. Like a river freed of a dam, the Vessel’s abyssal form gained a little more freedom, and it wriggled within his lap. “I told you that you needn’t wear that in here.” 

Like some strange animal, the ghost climbed up Grimm’s torso, their tendrils wrapping around his neck while they pressed their head against Grimm’s. It was a tender gesture, one of intimacy and trust and, while Grimm wouldn’t admit it, love. They stayed like that for a moment, and Grimm brought his hand up, gently rubbing their back. 

“Enough, enough. I should be going, after all.” Grimm attempted to pull off the Vessel, yet they continued to cling with incredible strength. They stretched and stretched until, finally, Grimm freed himself and their tentacles snapped back to their body, waving freely beneath them as Grimm held them at arm’s length. “Why must you cling? I give you far more than enough attention.” Grimm’s words were muttered as he set the Vessel down, who looked up at him as if to disagree. With a sigh, he leaned down and gently rustled the voidling on their head before standing up and moving towards the door, pulling his cape off of the coat hook. 

“The Grimmchild may stay, for now,” Grimm said, and the ball suddenly unfurled to reveal a levitating Grimmchild with wide, watery eyes of happiness. “ _For now._ ” Grimm’s emphasized words caused the Grimmchild to lose all nerve, and they wrapped around the Vessel’s shoulders. The former troupe master rethought his tone. “I’ll be back before nightfall. If you leave, be sure to lock the door.” With those words, Grimm departed. 

Strangely enough, the City of Tears was still as beautifully bleak as usual. It rained, constantly, but there was a magnificence in the way that the droplets complimented the buildings. The sewer systems had been cleaned out and renovated, allowing the puddles and flooding to be drained more efficiently. Bridges between previously broken platforms had been constructed, allowing for safe, continuous travel between areas. His walk down the street alone was peaceful, but his mind was a mess of ideas, hopes, and anxieties. 

They’d procured a living space. They’d watched as Hallownest began to breathe once more, giving purpose and life to so many bugs devoid of it before the Radiance was defeated. Now, he watched as his own life seemed to slowly tick by. What was he doing? He’d defied the Nightmare Heart, but for what? To settle down with a bug? Well, in short, yes. But it was more than that. He’d left fear, anxiety, and control for hope, warmth, and comfort. He was happier, now, he thought, but still. As the master of the troupe, he’d had a purpose, a role to play. He’d been born to collect flames of dead kingdoms and die, only to be reborn as the next Grimmchild. He didn’t recall his other lives, but somehow, he knew what his purpose was. He’d broken that cycle, clawed his way out, and now he felt listless. 

His walk took him to one of the new elevators in the City, and he pulled the lever, not minding the few bugs that trailed behind him hoping to share the ride. The machine groaned quietly before it ascended. The windows of the elevator provided a view to the City, and he watched with an almost empty look as the view grew larger and larger with the height of the elevator. As it grinded to a halt, the elevator opened its door, and Grimm stepped out. A new steel staircase tied together with rods and webs allowed him to take the next leg of the ascension on foot, and he glanced around the Forgotten Crossroads. One more elevator. 

What was his purpose, now? Did every bug struggle with this? What was he supposed to _do_ for the rest of his life? Stay at home and raise a Grimmchild? For some reason, this idea sent a chill down his spine. No, no, he couldn’t do that. Was there a way to put on performances? Perhaps not yet, not that he’d seen, but … 

The elevator creaked to a halt in the Forgotten Crossroads, which were quickly becoming un-forgotten. The small group of houses seemed to have multiplied, and now looked like a large housing community. Different sorts of bugs seemed to be doing some maintenance, or bidding their families farewell as they left for work. None of the bugs came up much higher than his waist, though, and he waded through them carefully as he thought. 

Who could he ask? Several bugs seemed to be starting up their own businesses. Even now, as he walked through the Crossroad community, he could see a few stands of vendors. Some were selling homemade recipes, others homemade crafts. Clothes, shell decor, unique weapons and artifacts. If there wasn’t already a theater in Hallownest, perhaps he could make one. It would take some time, and perhaps creativity, but it could be done. With all of the changes taking place in Hallownest, what was one more? 

As he strolled, the sound of a low laugh brought Grimm out of his pondering. He glanced up to see what appeared to be a dirt staircase leading up to a higher platform with a unique building, one that had a mild glow to it and seemed to be emitting a vapor. Was that smoke? No, incense? There were a few bugs around the stairs, but none had ventured up, yet. Grimm, having taken in the scene, moved forward. He hadn’t heard of some laughing bug in the Crossroads, much less one that dealt with lights and smoke. He supposed contacts were beneficial in Hallownest, and making a new acquaintance wouldn’t necessarily hurt. If it seemed less than tolerable he would simply leave. Grimm wasn’t shy about hurting feelings. 

The building was incredibly small, and for a long moment, Grimm stared at the entrance. Was he supposed to go inside? Him? The tall, lanky bug? In that? He turned his head at the entrance and moved to sit on the nearby bench, reaching back and knocking on the building three times as he crossed his legs. A few moments passed, and he knocked once more. The sound of rustling came from inside of the building, and soon a somewhat lumpy woman with large lips and excessive jewelry stepped out. Her mouth formed an open circle and her eyebrows rose in mild surprise. 

“Oh, what a handsome bug,” she cooed, covering her mouth promptly as a flush decorated her cheeks. Grimm didn’t react other than to look in her direction. “What can I do for you, sir?” 

“I have a few questions,” he said bluntly, patting the bench next to him. “Won’t you take a seat?” 

The woman seemed hesitant, but suddenly smiled, stepping forward and giving a bow in front of the former troupe master before moving to the bench. 

“And what could such a suave bug need from me?” Her voice was flattered, charmed. Grimm wasn’t sure why, but she seemed to be infatuated with him at first sight. How unfortunate. 

“First, your name. My name is Grimm, formerly of the Grimm Troupe.” He was crisp and curt as he spoke. He had never been the friendly type, exactly, and now he was attempting to gain information. Of course he would need to make … acquaintances. 

“Oh, what a gentlebug,” she cooed with a lively giggle. “I’m Salubra, owner and shopkeep of this establishment. We sell charms and blessings, and most recently, incense and magic components.” Grimm’s eyes narrowed mildly, but that only made Salubra giggle. 

“A Shaman, almost, then,” he said, but Salubra shook her head. 

“Close, but not quite. I do not _perform_ the magic, I merely sell it.” She sat back on the bench a bit, her eyes looking out to the homes in the distance, where Grimm had entered. “The way charms are made, the intricacies of magic, the effects of incense… all of it has always interested me. There’s a mystic element to it all, one that I delight in. Do you perform magic, Grimm?” 

“I do,” he said, glancing away. He hoped she didn’t ask how. Best to change the subject. “Though I come to ask you a question not of your trade, but of yourself. The bugs here, do they take to you?” 

“Some,” Salubra said after a moment or two of hesitation. “Some find me to be unapproachable, as you can see,” she says, nodding to the group of bugs looking apprehensively at the duo on the bench. They glance away, as if to hide their intentions. “Some of the more common bugs doubt my trade, and others simply find me too much to handle. That’s not the case with you, though, is it, sweet heart?” Salubra leaned a bit closer, looping her arm around Grimm’s elbow. Grimm felt a shiver down his spine. 

“I fear few things,” Grimm replied, awkwardly freeing his arm from her grasp. “But my question was, do you know who I would need to speak to in order to procure a … building of my own.” He didn’t mean a shop, he meant a theater, but he needn’t concern Salubra with all of the details. The fewer who knew what he was trying to do while he was still trying to do it, the better, as far as he was concerned. At his question, Salubra raised her eyebrows. She seemed to have been expecting something different. 

“Before Hallownest fell, you had to submit a request for a permit,” she said, holding up a hand to her cheek as she recalled the memory. “After, it was every lady for herself. Everyone just did what they could to avoid the infection. Some set off on their own adventures, but most of us just hunkered down until things blew over. I made mine a bit higher than most could reach, and then destroyed the ladder I used. It’s kept me safe all this time.” She paused, realizing she’d gotten off-topic. “Recently, they’ve brought back the permit system. All requests have been going through Emilitia, the last time I heard. Iselda dropped by a few days ago, complaining that she had to submit a request despite her store having been up for quite some time. But, rules are rules.”

Of course, Iselda. He could have asked her, rather than talking to this woman who seemed too friendly for his own good. Even now he could feel her arms snaking around his bicep. She was someone involved in magics and the intricacies of charms, and having her as a contact couldn’t be a _bad_ thing, but goodness was he uncomfortable. He stood up, carefully pulling his arm out of her grasp. It was a smooth, natural motion that he hoped wouldn’t raise much suspicion, but he definitely caught a disheartened, pouty look on her face. 

“I appreciate the help,” he said, glancing back at the bugs crowded around the steps. His eyes slowly shifted back to the woman, who now merely looked to him to continue. “I’ll be in touch,” he said as he moved towards the steps, causing the other bugs to flinch. Grimm paused. He supposed he owed her _some_ thing. Grimm pointed up the stairs with a flourish of his cape. “This woman knows what she’s talking about,” he proclaimed, and the bugs around him flinched again. Perhaps he’d been too energetic. “She’s also … nice. Go talk to her.” Even after his urging, they hesitated. He leaned down, gently giving a few of them a push up the stairs. The bugs began to walk together up the stairs, and Salubra hurriedly stood from the bench, straightening herself out before giving a grin and a flirtatious wave. Grimm hurriedly walked in the opposite direction.

So, he needed to speak with Emilitia? Who was she? Iselda should know, if no one else. She’d been in Salubra’s recently, and had needed to submit her own permit. Perhaps she could point him in the right direction. He suddenly paused. Iselda wouldn’t want to see him. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if she drew her sword on him when he showed his face at her shop. So, what was he supposed to do? 

***

The little ghost had been left alone hours ago, and now they floated listlessly around the apartment. When would Grimm return? Had he mentioned where he was going? They settled into the sofa, the spot where he’d sat, and cuddled against the cushions. His scent was still there. It was light, but it was there. The voidling closed their eyes in almost contentment, their essence pooling into a black blob on the sofa where Grimm had been hours ago. There was a soft nudge as the Grimmchild moved up onto the sofa, tentatively curling around itself in the Vessel’s lap. They glanced down to the creature before resuming their rest. 

And then the doorknob started to turn. 

The Vessel hurriedly jolted up and leapt from the sofa, their tendrils catching on the coffee table and Grimmchild, sending the two of them tumbling onto the floor into a heap. The Vessel, destroyer of the Infection, was flattened like a pancake beneath the Grimmchild, almost appearing like an inky stain on the rug. 

“What on Earth … “ 

Grimm’s voice caused the Vessel to spring up once more, catapulting the Grimmchild a few feet into the air before their wings flapped to stabilize themselves. They hovered in the air as the Vessel looked up to the door to see the former troupe master standing in the doorway. His cape seemed to catch a light breeze and it gave the softest of waves, giving a glimpse of the red undertones behind his black aesthetic. His eyes focused on the Vessel, and their tendrils began to waggle excitedly. 

“Nevermind, I haven’t the patience for questions.” Grimm’s voice was crisp, but the Vessel didn’t seem to mind. They watched as he strolled in and plucked their helmet from the coffee table. With one hand, he pushed it over the Vessel’s head, and the tendrils seemed to calm. “You aren’t even dressed, do you simply sit around the house like this? Naked?” The question held a somewhat playful tint to it, one that didn’t criticize or scold them for their choices. Grimm stepped back, pulling the Vessel’s moth cloak from the coat hook and draping it over their shoulders. All the while, the little ghost watched him do it, and simply indulged in being taken care of. 

Grimm began to walk back towards the door, and suddenly stopped to turn back and see his knight staring at him expectedly. They weren’t sure what he wanted, but he’d come back to visit them, and that had made them feel … happy? There was a long pause as the two of them looked at each other, each trying to determine the other’s status. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?” The sentence left Grimm’s mouth slowly. He still wasn’t used to this, used to inviting the Vessel to places or admitting that he wanted to spend company with them. Well, normally it was a “want”. Today it was a “need”. If he approached Iselda single-handedly he was bound to have difficulties. 

The Vessel didn’t seem to waste any time. They stood up and ran out of sight, leaving Grimm standing dumbfounded. They’d left without a word, which was normal, but they hadn’t even given a nod or shake of the head. They hadn’t even stared like they normally did. Just as he was beginning to contemplate the strange behavior, the Vessel reappeared, this time with their carefully crafted nail on their hip. It poked out from beneath the moth cloak, the delicate carvings visible even from Grimm’s distance. Again, wordlessly, the Vessel trotted forward and leapt up, grasping Grimm’s hand before falling back to the ground. Grimm didn’t question the gesture, though he was mildly embarrassed at how easily the ghost seemed to do these things. 

“We’ll be visiting Iselda,” Grimm said, allowing his fingers to wrap around the Vessel’s tiny hand. With a smooth, flawless motion he pulled up the ghost, and they were slung upwards like a doll, falling into the crook of Grimm’s arm safely. They peered up at Grimm as he walked. Iselda? The woman with the maps? She seemed nice. “I...believe I want to start a business.” 

The Vessel held their gaze on the former master of the troupe. Grimm wanted to be a salesperson? A shopkeep? They hadn’t seen that coming, but they had noticed some unrest in the home recently. While they’d been out and about challenging the colosseum and assisting in disaster relief after the infection had been defeated, Grimm had been mostly at home, or so they’d thought. Had they grown tired of the same scene? The Vessel could imagine that. Despite the thoughts drifting through the ghost’s mind, they lacked a voice to represent them. Perhaps the silence was uncomfortable - Grimm glanced down at them almost anxiously. 

“I think Hallownest needs a theater. It’s too dreary how things are now,” he said, almost making excuses. He cleared his throat. “The people have plenty to work for, plenty to purchase or sell. Yet there’s a lack of entertainment, a lack of _passion_.” Grimm spoke as he walked, the raindrops from the Blue Lake about the City gently showering them. The elevator was nearly in sight. “I feel this is something I could potentially excel in. It may be my new purpose, I think.” 

Behind them came the subtle flapping of wings, and then there was a weight around Grimm’s neck as the Grimmchild curled around him like some sort of living scarf. His pace slowed as he contemplated whether to be angry or ignore what had just happened, and he chose the latter. After all, he had his knight in his arms right now. Little could make him angry at this moment. 

“You should have stayed home,” was all Grimm said as he stepped into the elevator, and as he moved to pull the elevator, several bugs also piled in, as if they’d grown accustomed to his refusal to wait. He didn’t mind the others, and the elevator began to ascend. It was a familiar trip for Grimm - but it felt a bit lighter, now. He knew what he should do, where he should go, and who he should be with. He felt relieved, in a sense. Was this peace? 

He moved up the stone staircase, and beyond the Crossroads. He supposed they could have taken the Stag, but the ride was always so bumpy and it always made him nauseous. The Vessel, however, always seemed to light up when Grimm mentioned it, even as part of a different conversation. What was so special about the stag, anyway? He was the farthest thing from a presentable bug … then again, Grimm had found his own partner naked on the sofa. How far had he sunk? 

The next elevator creaked as Grimm stepped onto it, the gears squeaking and straining under his weight, despite how light he was. Perhaps it was his two parasites that weighed him down. Or perhaps the elevator had seen more traffic recently and had grown worn. The lift groaned as it ascended, wobbling as the pulleys hit some snags in the cables, which Grimm was _positive_ wasn’t safe. Still, it slowed to a stop at the ground level, and Grimm stepped out into Dirtmouth Station, which had become a bit more of a destination than before. 

Vendors lined the walls, some handing out pamphlets and others trying to call out for attention. Smoked grasses and delicately prepared flowers were handed out as street food, and dresses were hung up along the walls to catch the curious eye. Grimm cared not for any of these things, and strode forward confidently. The vendors lacked the confidence to confront such a tall bug, and many instead set their sights on other, smaller bugs. 

Upon stepping out of the station, the rest of Dirtmouth was revealed to be similar to what it once was. The town was still quiet, though there were more homes. It had adapted into some sort of a retirement community, all starting when the Elderbug declaring that a surplus of young bugs would be too noisy. The elderly seemed to have rallied behind that and now they had their quaint neighborhood. A quaint neighborhood with a map shop. 

Grimm promptly turned left, only to see a “closed” sign hanging on the door. Grimm’s scarlet eyes narrowed, and he banged his fist on the door. 

“Iselda, I know you’re in there. You and your husband never leave,” he called, though there was no answer. He paused, and then looked down to the ghost. Should he play his card? This soon? He looked back to the door. “I’m not alone, Iselda, I have the small one with me.” 

As if by some sort of magic passcode, the door slowly creaked open, and Iselda peered through the crack. Upon seeing the bundle in Grimm’s arm, the door swung open, and she plucked the Vessel from his arm. The former master of the troupe sighed and dropped his arm, which had been bent to support his partner. Around his shoulders, the Grimmchild chirped softly in his ear, causing Grimm to absentmindedly swat at it before finding its head and giving it a light pet. 

“And what could you possibly want,” Iselda said before turning her attention back to the ghost, who looked to Iselda and then back to Grimm, betrayal written all over their expressionless mask. Grimm gave a shrug, it couldn’t be helped. “You’re welcome any time, Ghost,” Isleda cooed, holding the Vessel closer to her in a warm hug. 

“I had questions about registering a permit for a business,” Grimm said, and this time, Iselda seemed more serious than before. He knew, it was a shock for him too that he would be asking for such a thing. “I would like to open a theater.” 

Silence hung in the air. It was quiet for so long, in fact, Grimm wondered if she’d heard him. However, the way she blankly stared at him was making him think otherwise. From the desk behind Iselda came a soft rustling, and Cornifer appeared, adjusting his glasses. Strangely enough, he joined in on the silence. Iselda merely glanced at her husband before returning her gaze to Grimm. The entire situation reeked of awkwardness so terribly that Grimm nearly sighed in relief when Iselda spoke. 

“A theater? You?” Iselda’s voice was a strange mix of confusion, playfulness, and shock. “You did have that troupe, huh? I guess that makes sense…” Idly, Iselda rested her head on top of the Vessel, who looked to Grimm forlornly. “What did you want to ask?” 

“I’d like to know more about this ‘Emilitia’. Salubra said she was currently the authority in building permits. I’d like to know where I can find her and what to expect.” Grimm had become much more comfortable now that Iselda had spoken, despite her words almost mocking him. Perhaps he was finally eased into their relationship, as antagonistic as it was. He brought his arms up, crossing them. “I’ve brought you a … sacrifice, so I expect you’ll share your information.” At the word ‘sacrifice’, the Vessel stiffened, a shadowed expression overcoming their mask. Iselda released a sigh and stepped forward, pushing the Vessel into Grimm’s arms. 

“I love the ghost, but I’m no fool. I can tell they prefer you to me - but perhaps you’re just that special.” Now Iselda crossed her arms, tilting her head thoughtfully as Grimm cradled the Vessel in his arms. “I suppose I can tell you a few things… but only because they approve of you, understand?” Grimm neither nodded nor shook his head. “Emilitia … she’s hard to work with, but it is the way it is.” 

“This doesn’t help me,” Grimm said bluntly. 

“I know that,” Iselda snapped. “After Hallownest fell into disarray, people clung to those who had retained their sanity. The Elderbug, myself, Mirabelle, and others still have been elected to higher offices and new occupations just to help those recovering from the infection find some sense of order.” She sighs. “I’m not exactly bothered, but … because of the urgency, some bugs are being put into positions they aren’t exactly suited for. Emilitia, for example, is suited for living in the sewers, where no one will ever have to work with her again.” 

“Iselda,” Cornifer said, his voice almost disappointed. It was like a warning, telling her that he’d prefer she ease her tone. 

“I know, I know,” Iselda said, waving him off. “She’s incredibly pompous. She prides herself on surviving the Infection and watching those who thought themselves better of her die. She insists she’s immortal, and had the nerve to criticize the size of my abdomen. She’s a wench, is what she is.” 

“You sound hurt,” Grimm said, the slightest smirk on his face clearly evident in his voice. He didn’t particularly hate Iselda, but hearing that her pride had been scarred by some random bug mildly entertained him. 

“I’m _not_ ,” she retorted quickly. Grimm was sure she was. “I just… you don’t say that to someone, you know? It isn’t polite, and for someone who claims to be noble, it was just … incredible. So I wish you luck dealing with her, she’ll probably remind you that you look like a clown and have a body that looks like the wind will blow it over.” 

“We’re bugs, neither of those are insults,” Grimm groaned. Behind him, the Vessel had managed to crawl up his shoulders and now hugged the former troupe master’s head from behind. “Is there anything she’ll require of me? For beginning a theater?” Iselda seemed to think for a moment. 

“You’ll need a location. I already owned my own, so I was required to submit an estimated monthly expense sheet and revenue form, a list of employees and a list of products.” Iselda’s tone grew in frustration as she went on. “And then she laughed at only having two employees, called us pitiful and stamped us with a seal of approval. Gods, I hate her.” 

“I understand that,” Grimm said, the ghost slowly moving to sprawl on top of his head. “A location, hmm?” Grimm paused, bringing up a hand to cup his chin in thought while his other hand held his elbow. Then, he realized. Iselda had helped them find a home, why not a business location? “Iselda, you wouldn’t happen to know of anything that’s on the market, would you?” The woman in question blinked as she was asked another question, one she hadn’t exactly expected. 

“Buildings? Hm… You’re a bit late, you know, most everything’s off the market. Oh, well, I guess … there is _one_ place …” Iselda’s expression looked a bit apprehensive as she spoke, and her eyes slowly shifted to Grimm. “Have you been to the Temple of the Black Egg?” 

Grimm had. He’d chased the Vessel to that place after they’d neglected to give him another flower that day. He’d rushed in mindlessly, no, desperately, and had not only helped the Vessel fight that abomination, but succeed in defeating the source of the Infection that had plagued Hallownest. He’d vanquished his nightmarish tendencies within those walls, within the dream world. Now here he was, being asked if he’d ever been there. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Grimm said. “What is that?” 

“The Temple of the Black Egg is … well, it was a building that was supposed to be a symbol of defense for Hallownest. Records are still being uncovered, even now, but it’s thought to be some sort of temple to ward away the infection. The thing is, it was still up even when the plague was running rampant. We aren’t sure if it actually worked. So some bugs want it torn down to remove the terrible memory, other bugs want to keep it up as a memoriam or way to repel the infection in the future.” Iselda threw up her hands in a shrug. “It’s a big mystery.” 

“But it seems to be on the market?” Grimm’s question tugged at Iselda’s inability to answer his real question. He wanted a place where he could set something up, and he’d asked for places that were available. She’d then gone into some miscellaneous information about the temple. This could only mean it was available and she simply wasn’t sure about selling it. 

“It...is.” Iselda’s words were hesitant, as if she pushed them out. “Look, Grimm, I’m not sure I want to be the one to sell it. If my name was attached to that sale, I’m not sure what would happen.” 

“Then could I purchase it from Emilitia, herself?” Grimm’s tone was curious. Iselda seemed to have some reservations about selling the property. While Hallownest seemed to be filled with mostly sensible bugs, Grimm supposed even this sort of civilization would have its radicalists. Superstitious folk who liked to hold to tradition were troublesome - but Grimm would find a way to deal with them when the time came. He wasn’t keen on involving Iselda, though. They weren’t especially friendly, but … he didn’t want her to be involved in his mess, exactly. 

“I…I guess?” Iselda sounded confused. “Then I don’t get paid.” 

“Would you rather be paid and have your name on that sale, or not be paid and not have your name on that sale?” Grimm’s tone was serious, despite the ghost that was now sprawled atop his head. Iselda was quiet for a few long moments as she contemplated her choices. 

“It’s not worth it,” she finally decided, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “I would be able to handle what people say, but I wouldn’t be fond of using my sword on an ignorant civilian. Besides, the money from you paying for that apartment will set us through retirement.” Her mouth tilted upwards into a smile. “Do you know where to find Emilitia? I assume you’re going there once you’re done here. You aren’t exactly someone who likes to wait.” 

“You seem to know me well,” Grimm said with a smirk. “I was intending to go there next, yes. And I’d appreciate it if you gave me specific instructions as to where she is.” 

“She’s currently working out of the City of Tears,” Iselda said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the desk Cornifer stood behind. “She refuses to leave her home, so anyone who needs her services are essentially guests.” Iselda turned, then, and grabbed a piece of parchment along with a quill from their stock. She jotted down a few numbers and words before gently blowing on it to dry the ink and handing it to Grimm. “Her address. It’s a few blocks from yours. Play nice and I’m sure you’ll give you what you want - it’s not as if she has standards or anything. She’s doing it all for the power trip.” 

“I see,” Grimm said, gingerly taking the paper as the Vessel clung to the front of his face, now. He could barely see around the mass of abyssal matter that covered his head. “Thank you for your help. It seems Hallownest will have a theater soon enough.” Iselda blinked at his confidence, and even seemed to flinch. 

“You haven’t even spoken with her yet. How … “ Iselda’s face suddenly relaxed as she realized. “You don’t intend to leave without getting that building, do you?” Across from her, Grimm smirked from beneath the Vessel. 

“I’m glad you understand,” he said, bringing up his free hand to hold the Vessel by their torso and peel them from his face. A sound akin to suction cups filled the air as they were removed, wriggling in his hand in a futile attempt to reattach. “We’ll be making our way there next, then. Thank you for your help, Iselda. I’ll be sure to repay the favor, sometime.” Grimm said the last sentence coolly over his shoulder as he wandered out, placing the ghost on the ground. They glanced up at him before Grimm began to walk, and then they followed, the pitter patter of tiny feet the only noise between them for some time. 

The otherwise silence between them was comfortable. They knew their way back, and at this point Grimm had learned how to match his pace to the Vessel’s. They were almost perfectly in sync, and it was peaceful, enjoying a quiet walk together. As they reached the cramped elevator, Grimm scooped up the ghost into his arm. They looked to him. 

“It’s just going to be a talk,” Grimm assured them. They continued to stare. “Really, honestly. I’m a reasonable insect. I wouldn’t just barge into someone’s home and go off spouting demands. Does that sound like me?” 

It did. 

The duo approached the City of Tears without conflict, and were met by the melancholic atmosphere of the city itself. Rain sprinkled down like gentle tears, and the quiet sound of footsteps on wet stone was relaxing. Grimm moved in the direction of the address on the parchment, and as the rain began to make the ink run, Grimm noticed a door with a line in front of it. Various bugs were taking refuge beneath the building awning in front of a room decorated by flowers around the doorframe. Grimm looked back to his parchment and checked the address. Indeed, this was where he was to go. Outside the door on either side stood two great sentries, bugs that were perhaps five times thicker than Grimm was and much more burly, too. Grimm did the practical thing, first - he tried to move past the other bugs, but the two sentries crossed their blades, blocking the entrance. 

“Get in line,” said the one on the left. Grimm eyed them both carefully before sighing and moving to the back of the line. He knew that he could push past them all, he knew it wouldn’t take him hardly anything to just make half these bugs and those sentries disappear into a puff of smoke, but … he had an image to look out for, and someone to keep safe. He couldn’t just go off committing mass murder as if it were nothing anymore. 

The time in line was slow. He’d gone from standing in the rain to standing _drenched_ in the rain, and all he could do was keep the Vessel under his cape to keep them dry. The words between them were scarce, other than the rare warning from Grimm for the ghost to remain under his cloak to keep dry. The bugs moved into the building, one by one, each ticking by slow than the minute hand of a clock. It felt excruciating, and just as Grimm’s patience began to wear thin, he was at the door. The sentries looked at him sternly. 

“Hahahahah, the next one may enter.” A singson voice seemed to flow from the room, and the sentries gave Grimm a nod. The former master of the troupe took a breath before he stepped inside. 

Grimm wasn’t entirely sure what he should have been expecting, but it wasn’t this. A room walled with what appeared to be silk curtains and stone pillars, decorated with plush furniture that resembled a queen’s room. Well, not the White Lady, Grimm knew perfectly well what her living conditions were. Flowers bloomed along the corners in the ground, budding up from seemingly nothing and emitting a soft pink hue. Sitting on the sofa was a woman who appeared to be this mysterious Emilitia figure, swinging her legs back and forth with a clipboard in her lap. She appeared to be tickled. 

“Oh, I don’t recall seeing you around,” she begins, and then her eyes fall on the Vessel, who stood close to Grimm’s leg. Her expression brightened. “Oh, ho ho, so you’ve survived, little ghost? It’s been quite some time! Take a seat, take a seat!” Her voice was like an eerie song that played, full of an uncomfortable joy in the music with a minor key being played. Grimm’s eyes moved to the Vessel who, as usual, seemed to be neither excited nor uncomfortable with the turn of events. Still, Grimm wondered: how had they met before? Likely on their adventures, but why would they have come to see this person? The Vessel moved forward and hopped up onto a small stool opposite the sofa, and Grimm moved to sit in one adjacent to it, though he had difficulty crouching onto such a tiny seat. It was as if he were an adult sitting in a kindergartner’s desk. 

“I knew I felt something different about you when you visited,” she chuckled, waving towards the entrance. Shortly after, a bug with a bow tie moved in and poured the three of them what appeared to be tea. They were even given grains of sugar for it. “So, are you here to lead the Nest? You’re clearly more than just a common bug.” The Vessel gave a slow yet firm shake of the head. Emilitia seemed almost disappointed. “That’s too bad. We could use another King, soon. That Elderbug is sure to die out before too long.” Grimm couldn’t help but notice that she seemed a little too excited about the Elderbug’s potential passing. He cleared his throat, and only then did Emilitia seem to notice him. Despite that being the purpose of his action, Grimm was uncomfortable being noticed by her. Something just didn’t seem … right. 

“I came to speak with you about a permit,” Grimm said. He’d hoped to use his size to his advantage, but being crumpled on this seat was hardly ideal. He’d have to work with it. “I’d like to found a theater in Hallownest.” 

“Excellent! Oh, a theater, how lovely,” Emilitia cooed, jotting down a few words on her clipboard. “And who might you be? I know all of the important bugs, but you don’t seem to be in my memory.” 

“Grimm,” he said, following a long pause as her words slowly burned into him. Iselda hadn’t been joking. No, no, this was just one eccentric woman. He was a fully grown bug, and he wouldn’t let such things unnerve him. He straightened his back a bit, though it didn’t help his posture. 

“Grimm, I see, now, Mister Grimm, where will you be having this theater? Hallownest is quite full, if you’d like a new building you’ll have to commission the Weavers or an independent contractor.” Her voice still reeked of a singsong tune, something that pulled on Grimm’s nerves to no end. 

“In fact, I did have something in mind.” At this, Emilitia’s face looked mildly surprised. Perhaps she simply thought that Hallownest was too full to allow much more construction before it was forced to expand. However, Grimm was hoping for something else. “The Temple of the Black Egg, is that not empty?” 

The question had no sooner left his lips than Emilitia stood up. 

“You … you _dare_ to destroy the King’s creations?” The words no longer hummed with an eerie joy, but now they vibrated with unstable rage. “That is a landmark! A holy symbol devoted to the Hollow Knight! He sacrificed himself for us! For Hallownest! And you … you …” 

“I do dare, yes.” Grimm’s voice was calm despite how tense the atmosphere had suddenly come. He didn’t know this individual, and he didn’t know what she was capable of. Well, he knew he was capable of more. “You put too much power to this building. It is empty, and it is taking up space. I merely want to repurpose it.” 

“R-Repurpose it?!” Emilitia’s voice was shocked and angry. Next to Grimm, the Vessel looked between the two of them, like watching some sort of tennis match. 

“Yes, my dear.” Grimm suddenly stood, slowly unfurling his body until he was at his full, slender height. Emilitia’s head slowly tilted up to look at him, her face distorted in rage. “I wish to take what the Pale King built, and transform it into a place of education, a place of theatrical representation and an establishment of entertainment. The bugs of Hallownest have little to brighten their days, little to engage in. They are merely _surviving_ , as I’m sure you are aware.” The emphasis on the word ‘surviving’ caused Emilitia to flinch. Grimm took that as a way in. He leaned forward, cupping her chin in his hand and tilting her head upwards, just a tad, just enough to look into his eyes. 

“The Theater is an avenue of expression, a vessel through which stories and tales are woven through history. Surely you aren’t suggesting that such a means of education should yield to your fossil, are you?” Grimm’s voice was calm, yet it tinged the scenery red with intimidation and power. Emilitia suddenly pulled away, slapping his hand away from her face. 

“That is … The temple will ward off infection in the future,” she snapped, though Grimm could see her tremble. He saw the parchment on her clipboard flutter ever so slightly. “I can’t simply let it go! The Hollow Knight resides within it!” 

“Oh, do you mean,” Grimm said, his face lighting up with realization as he pointed towards the Vessel. “Did they look like this one, but bigger?” 

“Y-Yes, now that you mention it,” Emilitia replied, still shaken. “There’s a statue dedicated to him within the City of Tears, surely you’ve seen it.” Grimm had recalled seeing a few structures that resembled his partner, but he hadn’t held much interest. 

“I see,” Grimm said, moving around the table that was between them so that he stood next to the woman, who backed away cautiously. However, that didn’t stop Grimm from taking her clipboard. 

“W-Wait, you can’t just -” 

“Oh, but I am.” Grimm smiled. “Do not worry, I will be certain to clean the temple from top to bottom. I will free this Hollow Knight you’ve spoken of, and will take personal responsibility if this infection ever returns.” As he spoke, he filled out the remnants of the form, signed his name, and took her stamp from the table before pressing it to the paperwork. Approved. 

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” he said as he dropped the clipboard, forcing Emilitia to lunge forward to catch it. The former troupe master turned and made his way to the exit, the Vessel on his heels. 

“This is void!!! I won’t be accepting this!! You’ll be hearing from me!!!” Emilitia’s voice shrieked from inside her room, and the sentries glared at Grimm on his way out, but they did not stop him. He had the idea that perhaps they did as she said and, since she hadn’t exactly demanded his capture, he hadn’t been restrained. Not that they would be able to restrain him, of course. 

“Some people just can’t handle conversations, I suppose,” he said once they’d grown a little more distant from the line of applicants. The Vessel reached up and held his cloak. Grimm glanced down with a sigh. “I have plenty of work now, will you be helping?” In response, they looked up to him and gave three quick nods in succession. 

The next few months were full of activity for Grimm and his ghost. They obtained the key from Emilitia the next week, who’d seemed to have forgotten about the circumstances under which they’d attained it. In fact, she’d seemed to not recognize Grimm at all, and had looked to the paperwork to remember. Lucky for Grimm, he’d been the one to stamp it with her seal of approval. 

After gaining possession of the key, they made almost daily trips to the Temple. More needed to be done than just decor, after all. Grimm’s fiery manifestations of magical power were able to handle the cleaning of cobwebs and leftover infection bulbs, but Grimm and the Vessel entirely remodeled the building. Upon entrance, there was a lobby, and beyond that, Grimm and the Vessel had torn down chains and erased runes, putting in theater seats, hanging up curtains, and building additional rooms in the back for potential actors and actresses to change and prepare in. The entire remodeling process took months, and at the end of it all, they were left with a grand display befitting that of the former troupe master. 

The lobby was grand, with different stalls set up to employ local vendors and benches for early arrivers to rest in. Chandeliers with small lightning bugs hung from the ceiling, giving the room a colorful glow. Further in, past the entrance into what used to be the Hollow Knight’s chamber, was the stage. Grimm and the Vessel had created alternate pathways to prevent guests from walking directly onto the stage, allowing them to filter to the seating area. Gorgeous scarlet curtains hung on either side of the platform, and up above was an intricate series of walkways to allow personnel to perform special effects if and when necessary. All in all there were forty changing rooms, as Grimm wasn’t entirely sure just how many would be in his productions at first. He believed forty would be an acceptable start. They could always expand, after all. 

Grimm wasted no time preparing for his first show. He had had some idea what he wanted this show to be, how he wanted to perform for the residents of Hallownest. It would be simple, just enough to ring his presence through the community, to tell everyone that there was a new form of passion in this world they knew. He would perform a dance, with the Vessel. It was something they were used to, something they’d done thousands and thousands of times before. They’d practiced and practiced, before they were even partners. No, they’d been doing this since before the flowers had started to arrive. It was simple, captivating, and exhilarating. It would be sure to draw in new actors and actresses and give them a place on the starting line for businesses in Hallownest. 

Now, the Vessel stood with Grimm in the lobby, bowing as bugs entered into their passion project. The Vessel was sporting a new moth cloak, and Grimm had cleaned his own clothes meticulously - however, this dance was something that was natural for them. There would be no need for costumes or makeup. As the bugs finished entering, Grimm took a deep breath and stood up proudly, looking to his partner. Were they … taller? Grimm could have sworn they’d only come up to his knee, yet now their horns touched his waist. Perhaps he was imagining it. 

“Are you prepared?” The words left Grimm’s mouth and the Vessel gave a nod. “Then we should make our way to the stage. We have bugs waiting for us to make our entrance.” He paused, and then the smallest of smiles formed on his face as he reached down, patting the ghost on the head. “I won’t be holding back, you know.” 

And then, his heart pounded. 

He hadn’t been in front of an audience for quite some time. In fact, he hadn’t really _fought_ since they’d vanquished the moth deity. Perhaps he was nervous. This was his element, he was worried he’d grown rusty in his time with the Vessel. They’d found a place to live, and now he was away from his troupe. He no longer had flames to consume or a ritual to perform. However, the Grimmchild was in attendance, coiled around Grimm’s neck like some sort of scarf. Grimm hoped that would ease his nerves. 

As the duo took to the stage, Grimm’s nerves became more sensitive. The pounding within his chest suddenly seemed to resonate throughout his entire body as he took to the center and bowed to the crowd, the Vessel by his side and the Grimmchild quickly shuffling beneath his cloak. Then, he moved a few steps away from the ghost. 

His vision seemed… fuzzy. Despite the Vessel staring at him steadily, unmoving, the image of the ghost wobbled and blurred before Grimm. He closed his eyes as he bowed, and took slow, deep breaths. It was nerves. He could have developed stagefright. It was more than possible, it was likely. That was why his heart pounded so heavily within his chest, why his head throbbed in the rhythm, and why he could feel the eyes of more than just the audience on him. 

When Grimm stood up, he felt the familiar sensation of binds tightening around him, chains rattling as they restrained him. 

“No, no!” Grimm’s scream ripped through his throat as the Nightmare Heart consumed him once more. The stage, the audience, the Grimmchild, the flame of Hallownest … he’d been conducting the ritual again without his conscious knowledge! And now, here he was, in front of his partner, experiencing torment when this should have been the ultimate pleasure. _Not again!_ The chains binding him pulled taught and Grimm watched as his body was tainted a fiery red shade before the audience and the Vessel. The crowd ooh’d and aah’d. The Vessel across from him drew his nail. This was about to be the performance of his worst nightmares.

And Grimm had front row tickets.


	3. A Flickering Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimm has been overpowered by the Nightmare Heart once more, this time overwhelmingly so, leaving the Vessel to fight for Grimm's life on their own. Will they be able to save the one they hold most dear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! 
> 
> I've gotten some really awesome feedback, and I'm very proud of this chapter. I hope that you'll all like it, and even if you don't, make sure to tell me what you did or didn't enjoy and what you'd like to see next time! I'd love to hear your thoughts. It makes me happy reading what you guys have to say. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Everything had been perfect. 

They’d accompanied Grimm to properly prepare the former Temple of the Black Egg, which now had become a fully furnished theater. Nothing had made them happier than trotting after the former troupe master, watching his every move. It wasn’t an obsession, but … every move that Grimm made captivated them. Every unfurl of the cloak, even reaching down to scoop them up, it was all somewhat magical. The Vessel didn’t want to pull away their gaze, even for a moment. 

And now, they couldn’t look away, but for an entirely different and much more terrifying reason. 

As they bowed to their partner, the one they would follow to the end, something terrible happened. A scream pierced through the room, rebounding off of the walls and forming a horrific echo. The Vessel lurched upwards, only to see that their lover was now tinged a bloody red, their face pale, and their eyes seemed to almost pulse in a rhythm, moving from their usual dull red to a bright, ignited red. It resembled what the Vessel had seen when they’d visited the dream realm, when Grimm had followed them during their first battle together. The Vessel had been … a little busy, what with a giant flying moth deity, but they’d known what was happening was far from good. Now, however, things felt … more intense. 

The audience, who had been murmuring quietly in anticipation, were now shocked into silence by both the scream that ripped through their speculations and the sudden change of color in one of the actors. Grimm’s hands clutched at his head in a display of defiance, and then, suddenly, the arms came down, beneath his cloak. Even from several feet away, the Vessel could hear the heartbeat. They’d fought Grimm before. They knew what this was. 

Grimm’s image gave the audience a grand bow, and then suddenly vanished before appearing in the center of the stage, several feet above the ground, his cloak ballooning to an impressive size. The Vessel tightened their grip on their nail. This wasn’t Grimm. It _wasn’t_. 

As they expected, fiery spheres began to escape from Grimm’s globed figure, and they all seemed to have the ghost in their sights. They moved, the rhythm of the heartbeat in their steps as they moved left, right, forward, back, and spun. It was something they’d done before, yet this time, every step felt like they were trying to survive. It was a dance to the death, one that the Vessel wasn’t sure would end well for either one. The flames skimmed past the ghost, managing to singe a few spots on the new moth cloak they’d gotten for this performance, but they were too experienced to worry about a wardrobe malfunction. They moved forward swiftly as the spheres ended, aiming for the balloon around Grimm, yet he vanished again in an instant.

The Vessel skidded to a stop, turning to see that Grimm had reappeared, this time with a malicious grin on his features. It was something they hadn’t seen before - an expression of true delight at the thought of harming them. No, before this, it had always been a performance. There hadn’t been malicious intent, injury had simply been a risk. 

Now, Grimm slammed his hand down and pillars of flame erupted, one of which just so happened to be beneath the Vessel. The heat penetrated their mask, their cloak, their abyssal being, and they staggered backwards. Luckily, they didn’t fall, and recovered their stance just in time to leap backwards to avoid Grimm’s lunge, his hand outstretched and clenching just in front of the Vessel’s mask. No doubt, if they hadn’t leapt backwards, their neck would have been in that grasp. The Vessel steadied on the stage as Grimm leapt up, disappearing in a red poof of smoke. This gave them just enough time to see that charred holes in the stage had formed from the pillars of flame, and the curtains were now being eaten by flames. The audience remained seated, enamored by what they presumed were special effects. And the Vessel had not a single voice to warn them. 

“Pay attention,” Grimm shouted, his voice twisted by some malevolent force as he appeared behind the Vessel. They spun, just in time for Grimm to grip their mask and slam them into the stage, just as a pillar of fire erupted, engulfing the Vessel. The crowd gasped as the moth cloak burnt to cinders, leaving only an abyssal essence as a body to be seen. 

Why … were they struggling? Was it because this time Grimm was targeting them? The last time this occurred, Grimm had managed to regain his sense of self, but right now … that didn’t seem possible. If that was the case, the Vessel had to prioritize their own life, and cut down the Nightmare King. 

But they couldn’t. 

Their body spun around, despite their mask being held to the floor, and engulfed the former troupe master’s hand, causing him to step back in surprise. The Vessel detached and regained their footing on the stage. The Nightmare King clutched his hand and, with a flamboyant flourish, opened his cape to send three fiery draconic creatures flying towards the ghost. The Vessel leapt, carefully dashing through what little space for maneuvering the hellish servants left for them. After the first pass-through, the creatures dissipated, leaving a disgruntled troupe master. 

Why couldn’t the Vessel talk? Like all the other bugs? If they could, they’d have been able to cry out to Grimm, to tell him that they didn’t want to fight him. They’d fought and killed so many bugs in their travels and not felt a thing, but the thought of cutting down Grimm sent a sickly tremor through their body. They didn’t want to. A lifetime of feeling impartial to all things, yet now, with so many other bugs at stake, they had a preference. 

In front of them, Grimm had disappeared. He’d leapt into the air, and now he dashed downwards, though the Vessel knew this dance. They stepped to the side and, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met, and the ghost had a sudden realization. 

This wasn’t Grimm. 

Perhaps that was obvious. However, in the dream world before, Grimm had certainly had a part to play. He’d been fighting the entire time, but now, this… this was a shell. This was a puppet with someone else pulling the strings. Grimm was nowhere to be found, lost to his primal instincts and slave to some larger order. The Grimm that they knew was locked away tightly behind lock and key. 

The Vessel took their stance with their nail as the Nightmare King stood proudly, his head held high as columns of flame once again erupted from the stage. However, this time, the knight had stepped back. They’d avoided it. 

What were they supposed to do now? Fight him? It made them sick to think about, but they didn’t seem to have another choice. If they didn’t render him unconscious, they’d be dancing until the end of time, or worse - this mysterious puppeteer would take advantage of their audience. Frail, helpless bugs who’d just wanted to enjoy their evening. They weren’t warriors, and they weren’t strong. These were common bugs. Weak, common bugs. 

“Faster, faster! Let the music move you!” The Nightmare King’s distorted voice seemed to almost enrapture the audience, and the Vessel’s attention was only momentarily distracted by the sight of an entire crowd of bugs standing up and dancing to a song that wasn’t playing. 

Suddenly, the Nightmare King’s hand gripped the knight’s throat in a quick forward lunge, holding them up and squeezing. The ghost needed no air, yet … why did it feel so hard to breathe? They held their nail, but it wouldn’t swing. They opened their mouth, but couldn’t speak. 

“And thus, we conclude our ritual,” the King cried, all for the enamoured audience to commence clapping in support. “The most rich flame of all, ripe for the taking.” The Nightmare King reached up, his claws only a second away from piercing into the Vessel’s chest, when something occurred. He stopped, and the most horrific expression of confusion flashed across his face. The arm trembled with restraint, and the hand that held the Vessel’s neck slowly opened, as if someone were prying it open by brute force. “SILENCE!” The king’s shout was one that made the theater tremble and shake, but one that gave the Vessel an opening. 

They slammed down into the ground right in front of the Nightmare King, a plethora of black, abyssal energy encompassing them and their strike, knocking the Nightmare King back into a stagger. They lunged forward, dashing past him and striking him with the nail simultaneously before swinging again, this time smacking into the Nightmare King’s abdomen. 

Grimm was there. He _had_ to be. 

No one else would have held the power to stop that arm. No one else would have been able to infuriate such a cocky puppeteer. No one else could have made the Vessel hope the way he did. Grimm was the only one capable of these things. And so now, invigorated by Grimm’s fighting spirit, the Vessel came to a conclusion. 

They would end this dance. 

If Grimm was in there fighting, so would they. The Vessel watched as Grimm disappeared, but quickly jumped back just in time to avoid another attempt at grabbing them. Too slow, too predictable. They’d taken enough hits to know the rhythm. The Nightmare King skidded to a halt just in time for the Vessel to make contact with their face, the nail clinking at it beat against his skull. No, too hard. Too deadly. They wanted to make an opening for Grimm, not kill his body. The Nightmare King staggered back, holding his head, his shoulders shaking. He was laughing. 

“The ritual _must_ be completed, ghost,” he said, and for a moment, the Vessel’s nonexistent heart sank. It sounded just like Grimm, no longer distorted. “This host won’t die until it is, you know. Its purpose … is to serve the Nightmare Heart, and it will live until it does so.” He stood, tilting his head back. “I created this vessel. I will always follow it, always be with it, and always be waiting, even if the troupe does not exist. Yet, you dare to fight this fate.” 

The Vessel readied their stance, but the Nightmare King only grinned. 

“You can not simply _kill_ me, ghost.” He sounded amused. “I am a concept, an idea, an ethereal force. To kill me would be to kill this body, and to do that would be to end your little game of ‘house’, would it not?” The sadistic grin on the Nightmare King’s face was one that angered the Vessel - something they hadn’t quite felt before - but they felt an odd warmth at the idea of playing ‘house’ with Grimm. 

Suddenly, a rope fell around the Nightmare King, and it was quickly pulled taut, accompanied by the familiar sheen of silk thread. In the blink of an eye, Hornet descended from the overhead rafters, landing carefully on the Nightmare King’s back. Combined with her momentum, it brought him to his knees. The Vessel looked up to see Iselda above as well, holding onto the other end of the thick rope, her arms pulling it taut still. She flashed a grin. 

Still, the King struggled, though he trembled with restraint, much like his arm had done before. The Vessel stepped closer, and Hornet pulled on her thread, causing a groan of pain from the Nightmare King. 

“If what he said was true, the bond between them can be severed by no ordinary blade,” Hornet said softly, glancing almost shyly to the audience members, who had resumed watching. “No matter your nail’s purity, it can not cut what can not be seen.”

The Vessel paused, and looked to the one who had taken hold of their lover’s body. This scarlet hued monster, who had forced them to fight their own lover. The one they were supposed to protect, they’d had to draw their nail on. Something hot bubbled within the Vessel, something violent, but they suppressed it. This was Grimm, after all. If they decapitated it, there’d be no Grimm to come back, and the Nightmare Heart would have succeeded in what it set out to do. 

The Vessel looked to their nail. The engravings and careful craftsmanship were visible to even the untrained eye, but there was something more to it. The Seer had infused her own clan’s magic to this nail, something that made it possible for the Vessel to fight that which plagued the dreams of the bugs of Hallownest. Would it be possible to fight that which plagued the dreams of their beloved? 

They pulled back the nail, imagining the world of dreams. Then, they moved it forward, and simply tapped the Nightmare King on the head. 

They were engulfed in flames. 

As opposed to the normal, relaxing, almost peaceful wave that washed over the Vessel whenever they’d used the dream nail, they now experienced a dark claw, pulling them down into the deepest depths of unconsciousness that existed. Everything was hot, and the air smelled of charcoal and dust. The Vessel saw absolutely nothing, for a wall of blackness blocked their vision. They simply existed within a system of transit, although the descent quickly screeched to a halt. The claw opened and dissipated, freeing the Vessel. 

They weren’t sure what they’d planned to see, but it hadn’t quite been this. 

Eerie circus music seemed to play, slow and depressing, as if whoever were playing was clearly at the end of their rope. Before the Vessel stood a grand circus tent, not unlike what they’d seen when they first met Grimm. However, now, they saw no one. No Grimmsteeds, no Grimmchildren, no random circus goers who were part of the troupe. The entire area seemed like a ghost town, aside from the music, and the oddest rhythmic pumping of a heart that grew louder as the Vessel approached the tent. 

As they stepped inside, they were greeted with the largest abomination they had ever seen. Covering the entirety of the ceiling of the tent and dipping down to almost the ground was the Nightmare Heart, bulging and pulsating in an annoyingly consistent rhythm. The sound of blood rushing filled the room, all while an eerie red glow emanated from the heart itself. Narrow slits in its thick skin gave off the appearance that this monstrosity had many, many eyes. Bloody tendrils of what looked like dead tissue hung from it, swaying slightly with each pulse. 

Beyond that, hanging upside down and bound in chains, was Grimm, the former master of the troupe. His eyes were closed, and the chains that embraced his body seemed to pulse with red energy in rhythm to the beating of the Heart. He squirmed uncomfortably on occasion, but was otherwise incredibly still. The Vessel stared blankly at the body of their partner. Nothing was supposed to pass through them. They weren’t supposed to feel pain, really. At the very least, they weren’t to cry out. They lacked a voice, after all. 

Yet seeing Grimm in such a state caused pain, anger, and sorrow to race through their tiny body. With no outlet, the Vessel merely walked forward, their body trembling as it attempted to contain the emotions that had manifested. Before they could reach the Heart, before they could reach their lover, a wall of flames erupted, separating them from what they were approaching. The Vessel nearly continued to walk, but stopped. No, they couldn’t take needless damage, not when Grimm needed them. Behind the wall of fire, the Nightmare Heart’s slitted pattern, which resembled eyes, glowed with recognition. 

“So you’ve followed to here … what a crafty ghost …” The Heart’s voice was something that almost rumbled through the tent, like a tremor through the ground or a thunder wave through the air. “To think you held the blessing of the Dreamers, and learned the sacred ways of the moths…perhaps you are more of a threat than anticipated.” The flames grew stronger, larger, and more deadly. The Vessel stepped back from their display, only for them to suddenly go out, leaving the entire room shrouded in darkness. All the Vessel could perceive for several moments was the pounding of the Heart. 

Suddenly, lanterns above the Vessel, hanging from a network of overhead boards, began to light up. The glows were harsh, and the ghost flinched for a moment under such bright light before noticing that the entire layout of the room had changed. It was identical to the Troupe’s tent, the stage that they and Grimm had performed on before all of this had happened, before the flowers began to flood in. They were in a ring, with masked troupe members occupying every seat in the tent, cheering and booing and wiggling in their seats out of anticipation. Behind them all, high in the tent, was the Nightmare Heart, with Grimm still dangling from its manifestation. The Vessel pulled out their nail. They would fight, no matter what came their way. 

And come to them it did. 

A wave of troupe members, each donning grey cloaks and white masks resembling that of Grimm’s flowed from the stands. Some held magnificent staffs that bore red flames, others merely were on foot. However, all of them were making their way to the Vessel, each emanating murderous intent and prepared to end them here and now. The ghost lowered themselves, and held their nail at the ready. Wait. 

As the circle closed around them, they swiped their nail in a circle. The divine nail art cut through several of them, but the wave continued, the fallen replaced with new, fresh blood. _Another nail art, watch your back. Dash, nail art. Hack through them, they’re bugs. They’re bugs and they’re being controlled, just like the infection._

In the intensity of it all, the Vessel found themselves analyzing what would happen. They made predictions, gave their body an order of operations to follow. Was this what thinking was like? Yet, they weren’t supposed to. They had no mind, no mind to think. Their body moved according to their wishes, and they cut down mage after mage and member after member. Still, with every movement, they could feel themselves coming undone. There were too many of them, crowding around them and pulling them apart. 

Each movement against the Vessel jarred them, created the slightest delay in their movements as they worked to cut down the enemies. It disrupted their flow, and ultimately, they weren’t nearly efficient as they should have been. They were the Vessel, the knight that held back the Radiance and defended Hallownest, however hollow it had been. Now, the Vessel was falling, crumbling beneath more than they could handle. The enemies were endless, and before they knew it, all they could see was Grimm hanging helplessly from his oppressor, a shell of what the ghost knew him to be. They weren’t strong enough. Soon, even that gap was closed as the troupe members piled on. All the Vessel could do was collapse beneath them.

_I’m … sorry. Sorry I can’t save you. Sorry I’m not strong enough to fight your demons. I wanted to free you from that place, to show you happiness in a world that was so, so dark. But that was incredibly foolish of me, a voidling, to try and do. I am the darkness, after all._

The Vessel looked up, hoping to spot even a strain of light from above, but all they could see were the masks of the troupe members as they moved to overcome them, pulling at their cloak and body to rip them apart. Their moth cloak, which had been sparkly and new only hours before, was now tattered, and continued to rip apart. Their abyssal body was becoming stretched in all directions. Finally, a hand reached out and grasped their mask, removing it. 

And an abyssal shriek sounded. 

It was a horrific, loud, continuous scream that suddenly released from the Vessel as the mask was removed. Anger, sorrow, pain, and regret were all portrayed through this high-pitched cry, and as it erupted, so did several black ethereal beings. They knocked back the troupe members as they cried out, just enough to provide an opening. The Vessel floated up in their abyssal glory and paused just long enough to look into the Heart. There was nothing in the gaze they showed, nothing but acknowledgement. Then, suddenly, they slammed into the ground, causing a ripple of abyssal energy. The troupe members were thrown back, the closest ones disappearing into an ethereal shimmer as they were wiped from the dream world entirely. 

Despite the impressive display, this did not deter the other members. They continued to swarm, yet the newly unleashed voidling dashed almost endlessly, racing through the haunted members of the troupe and cutting them down with their nail. Each hit released a minor explosion of abyssal matter, which clung to nearby enemies and engulfed them. The nail itself had taken on a dark appearance, slicing through any who dared to even attempt to make context with the Vessel. 

The fire keepers, realizing that they were unable to approach the Vessel physically, floated above the fray, and began to dance within the air as eerie music played. The flames atop their staffs, the remnants of kingdoms fallen, seemed to flicker excitedly as they cast their spells, unleashing a barrage of fiery projectiles into the battle below. Most of the attacks missed, slamming into their fellow troupe members as they were unable to properly follow the Vessel’s quick movements. There was zero hesitation in their attacks, which made it difficult to find a pattern and aim properly. 

The Vessel themselves darted in and out of the small space between the Heart’s minions, flowing like a stream that fit any size channel. They cut through them, one by one, mercilessly and without a second thought. The Vessel no longer had any thoughts, only cutting down what stood between them and their most cherished person. As the fiery spheres descended, the Vessel became aware of the threat from above, and they flew into the air. Unlike most voidlings who had a strange, wandering pattern in their floating movements, the Vessel was quick. They bolted into the midst of them, and dark, inky tendrils shot out from them, wrapping around the mages who’d dared aim at them. The tendrils squeezed and squeezed, constricting the mages until they burst, causing a shower of black rain onto the remaining combatants below.

Despite the long, drawn out battle that had taken place before the Vessel had collapsed, this fight in their voidling form had only taken a few minutes. Soon enough, the stage was clear, the last of the troupe members shimmering into nothingness at their blade. The ghost floated above the battlefield, above their mask that lay on the ground, and looked to the Nightmare Heart. It pulsed, yet it was strangely quiet. 

“An impressive display,” it commented, though the voice no longer rumbled the entire tent. Perhaps it had lost its confidence. “Though, you lack knowledge. The Troupe Master you seek is nothing like what you desire.” At those words, the chains that held Grimm suddenly rattled and retracted, releasing the thin bug from its hold. The Vessel quickly covered the ground, like a bullet from a gun, and gently wrapped Grimm in their abyssal form, like some sort of bedroll cradling a child. One thing sent unease through them. 

Grimm wasn’t moving. 

“The master of the troupe is a creation meant to embody the flames of fallen kingdoms, to feast on the hopes, dreams, and misfortunes of lively civilizations past. Without the Nightmare Heart to store these flames, he will be empty… hollow.” The Nightmare Heart’s words reverberated through the tent, though this time out of sheer volume than power and intimidation. “For him to escape the ritual is for him to escape life. He is meant to be born, to live, and to die, all for the troupe.”

The speech was something the Vessel was familiar with. Likewise, the Vessel wasn’t supposed to have a will of their own, either. They were meant to be born and live only to repel the infection from Hallownest. They’d been looked over and neglected, avoided, rejected. At least, until they’d met Grimm. Grimm had bowed to them, acknowledged their existence and invited them to dance. It was a deadly dance, one that made the Vessel move with anticipation and … excitement. They’d felt things they’d never felt before, experienced new situations and met new bugs. Grimm had opened so many doors for them, and to think that he had the same fate …   
No, he didn’t. That fate wasn’t going to stay that way. 

The smokey tendrils that gently embraced Grimm slowly lowered him to the ground. Glowing white eyes watched him limply lie against the dirt before moving up to the Nightmare Heart. In order to forge your own path, you had to slay what was in your way. Slay what bound you to that fate. The Vessel had vanquished the Radiance, their purpose for living. Now, the Nightmare Heart held shackles on Grimm’s future. However, how did they know that Grimm wouldn’t remain like this? Even now, upon being released, he hadn’t spoken nor moved. Even if the Vessel destroyed the Nightmare Heart, how would they know that their Grimm would return? 

Simple. There was no guarantee. Yet, they couldn’t allow such a crippling existence to plague Grimm’s subconsciousness. Even if it had to survive for Grimm to return, that would leave the future open to potential attacks to repeat themselves. There was no telling what would happen to Grimm if these events continued to occur. They may have their partner back, but for how long? And would this creature plague his dreams? 

Despite what the Vessel wanted, to have Grimm back safe and sound, they were going to have to risk losing him completely. If the only way to keep Grimm was to keep the Nightmare Heart in his consciousness … then they would end the both of them, out of mercy. Grimm had tried so hard to break free. They couldn’t let that go to waste. 

At that, the Vessel shot forward, wielding their nail and dashing through the skin of the nightmare heart with ease. The outside was tough, like thick leather, but it was nothing to a masterfully crafted nail. The Vessel came to a halt, though, after breaking through. What they saw made up the inside of the Nightmare Heart was something that they hadn’t expected.

Within the Nightmare Heart floated hundreds of thousands of flames. They were the same flames that powered the staffs of the mages, the same flames that they’d captured for the Grimmchild. They floated idley around the interior, lost memories of ancient civilizations meandering forlornly through the space in which they were occupied. The Vessel could hear the pumping of the Nightmare Heart even more so now than before, with the rhythm violently pounding within their consciousness. They shook their head, white glowing eyes looking for a sign of weakness. 

There didn’t seem to be an obvious weakness, though, at a quick surveying. However, as they hesitated, the flames began to change shape. They shifted into various different creatures - a red dragonfly, still glowing with the light of the flame, though bearing a crown and modified stinger. A caterpillar that, despite the only color of it being red due to the flame, held several different stripes and even tiny horns along its body. Another one morphed into a wasp, wings flapping angrily and stinger barred. Another one changed into a hercules beetle, wings flapping and horn ready to charge. More continued to shift, until the last one changed into something that was far more familiar to the Vessel. 

A glowing flame floated in front of the Vessel, bulging and shifting until it finally took shape into a small creature with a pointy crown atop its head. The Pale King, taken in the form of a flame of Hallownest, was present. Despite the recognition that flashed across the Vessel’s gaze, the Pale King did nothing. 

“You may stand well against the members of the troupe. However, how will you stand against the fallen? The memories and heroes and icons of past kingdoms, manifested to protect their new home?” The voice of the Nightmare Heart rumbled throughout its insides intimidatingly. 

Every flame had turned into a bug, each one representing a landmark location the Troupe had visited. Heroes that had fallen, their memories strong enough to take on the form of a flame that was capable of igniting a kingdom, all looked to the Vessel and armed themselves. Stingers, claws, teeth, fangs, spines, and horns all barred towards the Vessel as they began to approach. Uncertain how to fight such ethereal creatures, the Voidling floated backwards, though the incredible wall of flames crept ever nearer. 

The Pale King, too, approached, though he merely looked to the knight, stopped, and turned his back on him, holding out his hands. The other flames stopped momentarily in hesitation. The voidling looked between the two sides - the Pale King, and his fallen brethren. After a long pause, the Pale King shook his head, and turned back to the Vessel, leaning down to press his forehead to the voidling’s abyssal form. 

_I beg for your forgiveness, my child._

The words were quiet, and they reverberated through the Vessel’s body. Soft, warm words that enveloped them and seemed to drain them of the anger, sorrow, and pain that had been so prevalent such a short time ago. 

_I have made my mistakes. Please … find your happiness, to atone for my sins._

The Pale King pulled away, then, and the expression on his face was … incredibly sad. The Vessel hadn’t known him personally, only by myth and legend and the occasional sight they’d caught in passing, but now, the King turned. In almost a sense of understanding, the other creatures reverted to their flickering flame forms, the Pale King to follow. The entire Nightmare Heart rumbled in fury as they began to float, this time with more purpose, out the entrance that the Vessel had created on their way in. 

“How dare … ! This is your home! The only place where you are able to exist freely! Yet you leave, putting your own legacies in peril … !?” The angry voice continued to shout obscenities out of rage and frustration, rumbling and shaking in absolute anger. The Vessel ignored it. For whatever reason, the Pale King had intervened, and allowed them to continue their fight for Grimm. They weren’t about to waste this opportunity, this second chance. 

They raced forward, propelled by smokey, abyssal tendrils, and cut through the other side of the Heart. The pounding of the Heart grew stronger, more rapid as they exited the other side. Perhaps it was panic that caused such a racing pulse. The Vessel was relentless, though. They rammed through the other side, dashing through the Nightmare Heart with their nail again and again. How dare they take Grimm’s will? How dare they make him weak as he was? How dare they threaten to keep him captive? How dare they? 

The thoughts ricocheted through the Vessel’s entire being as they ripped through the skin of the Nightmare Heart again and again. The pulse grew faster and faster, and air began to quickly leak out of the holes the Vessel had formed. Soon, the scarlet exterior of the Heart began to dull, and the edges around the holes that the Vessel had formed began to wrinkle. 

“You … do you really intend to lose that which you hold most dear … ?” 

The question was quiet, hesitant, and almost shocked. The sudden change in tone caused the Vessel to hesitate. Would this destroy Grimm? Would it leave him helpless? More helpless than he was now? The thought made the Vessel extremely uneasy, but … they’d already made their decision. In their hesitation, however, red tendrils shot out from the sides of the nightmare heart, gripping the voidling. They wrapped around their abyssal body, constricting them to the point of immobility. A final, desperate attempt to halt its end. 

However, the Vessel knew what needed to be done. Despite the unhappiness that they knew they would feel, they knew that the feeling of being controlled would be far worse for Grimm. They would sacrifice their own happiness for him, for his freedom, in this world or the next. The Vessel closed their eyes. 

_Forgive me._

They suddenly slammed downwards with all of their abyssal might, ripping the Nightmare Heart’s tendrils from its sides and bringing chunks of the Nightmare Heart’s flesh with them. They shot through the bottom, slamming into the ground. As they began to float once more, the tendrils slowly fell off, removed from the source of their strength. The Vessel turned to see the Nightmare Heart slowly deflating like a balloon, its skin wrinkling and shriveling up. It limply hung from the ceiling of the tent in tatters from the battle. The Vessel no longer felt the overwhelming presence of the Nightmare Heart. It was finished. They turned down to see their partner, Grimm, still lying limp on the ground. They lowered themselves until they were pooled on the ground next to him, their tendrils snaking around him to bring him closer and hug him into their chest. 

Grimm’s entire body looked as if he’d been washed out. His colors were pale. Even his black body and the top of his head looked more akin to the color gray than black. The white reminded the Vessel of paper. Even his eyes were closer to pink than red. He felt cold in the Vessel’s embrace, and they couldn’t help but feel a chilling sense of fear spread through their body. 

Why were they so scared? Were they afraid for Grimm disappearing? No, they’d known this could happen. They’d prepared themselves and accepted the potential consequences … so why did their body feel so tense? Why were they shaking? They were terrified. So terrified that they would be going home to a living space that no longer held their partner. They would have to go back down paths alone instead of with him. The Grimmchild would be a constant reminder of their failure to protect the troupe master himself. Sorrow and regret washed over the Vessel, and all they could do was hold their lover in their arms. 

_Do not fear._

The voice was quiet, soft, and familiar. The Vessel looked around almost desperately, only to see a tiny flickering flame lowering towards them. Normally, they may have pulled out their nail, but they lacked the strength to right now. They just wanted to be left alone with Grimm. They wanted the emotions to stop, yet they’d been looking so forward to feeling more than ever before. They wanted to turn back time and never let the Nightmare Heart touch his Grimm. 

The flame floated closer, until it perched itself onto Grimm’s chest. 

_He lives from the flames...Perhaps, there truly is no cost too great._

With those words, the flame sunk into Grimm’s chest, just as the Vessel began to fade from existence. Their time in the Dream world was ending, and soon, they’d be back on that stage with the former Nightmare King. They could only hope that what they’d done had sever the tie, and … that Grimm would find peace. They took one last look at Grimm’s face before they closed their eyes and their magic took them to the waking world. 

The world the Vessel returned to was terribly silent. The bugs in the audience were now only staring in unmasked horror and concern. Grimm, their lover, was still bound in thick rope and thin thread. Iselda was still perched in the upper rafters of the theater, and Hornet was still perched on Grimm’s back carefully, like some sort of bird keeping her prey in check. Grimm, however, appeared lifeless. 

The red had drained from his form, yet he was the same washed out creature that he’d been before, in the dream world. His eyes were shut, almost as if he were still dreaming. The Vessel stood, now back in their material form with their mask. They approached him and as they did so, the thread and rope loosened, allowing Grimm to slowly fall limp. The Vessel pulled him close, and rested their head upon his. 

They wanted to stay like this. They wanted to keep holding Grimm and never let go. Yet, the idea crossed their consciousness that this … might not be Grimm. Grimm could be gone, if what the Nightmare Heart said was true. They weren’t certain the Heart had been telling the truth, but there wasn’t any proof that they had been lying, either. 

“Grimm, wake up, you lazy pile of geo!” Iselda’s shout came as she leapt off of the rafters, her wings fluttering lightly to slow her descent - though not by much - before she slammed her foot into Grimm’s abdomen. The Vessel tensed, their tendrils wildly beginning to flick in anger, but something got their attention. 

Grimm coughed. 

It was faint, but it was enough to stop everything. The Vessel turned their head downwards to see that the color in their partner had begun to return in almost a wave, starting from the chest. Standing over him, Iselda smirked proudly. 

“You’re making everyone worry,” she said, reaching down and grasping his arm. The former troupe master still appeared dazed, but Iselda was able to pull him up easily with little effort on his part. He raised a hand to his head and shook it, coughing a few more times and swaying on his feet. Iselda kept a hand on his shoulder and pat his back. “Quit that, you’re fine.” 

Before anyone could make another move, the crowd suddenly applauded. Cheers, whistles, and claps from the audience as well as an incredibly loud buzzing noise in excitement sounded throughout the shambled theater. They’d come to see a show, and it had been an incredible performance. Hornet and Iselda bowed. Grimm hesitantly looked at his surroundings before clearing his throat and joining them in their bow. He opened an eye, glancing to the Vessel, who stared at him very intently. 

“You should bow, ghost. After all, they’re clapping for you.” 

The smooth and familiar voice sent a warm shiver through the Vessel’s abyssal body. It was an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness, but the Vessel couldn’t seem to move. They simply stood there amongst the cheers, staring at what they’d thought they’d lost forever. Suddenly, Grimm flinched. 

“A-Are you … _crying?_ ”

Grimm’s question held unveiled surprise, and with good reason. The Vessel, a being that was not supposed to hold a voice nor mind and therefore no emotion, was crying. Dark droplets of abyssal matter leaked from the eye sockets of the mask, running down its smooth surface. Grimm glanced to Iselda and Hornet, who both wore frowns. Feeling the emanating aura of intimidation, Grimm stepped forward and picked up the Vessel from under their arms. With a sigh, he hugged them close, and the Vessel hugged back, burying their mask into his shoulder. 

“It must have been hard,” Grimm murmured, low enough that no one else would hear amongst the cheering. He leaned his head up against the Vessel’s mask, almost sadly. “I know that something… came over me, and I’m aware of what that was. But it was unfair of me to leave you to face that alone. Forgive me?” 

Against Grimm’s shoulder, the Vessel vigorously shook their head back and forth, like a small child disagreeing stubbornly. 

“Oh, come now. If you won’t forgive me I’ll have to leave.” Another terrible shake of the head. “So you won’t let me leave, but you won’t forgive me?” More head shaking. “I see. Well, I don’t embrace those who don’t forgive me, so …” At that, Grimm pulled the Vessel away, but dark inky tendrils snaked around him, binding the two together in a hug. “So you’ll forgive me?” Finally, a nod. 

“I came to see a play and instead this is what I get,” Iselda grumbled, moving forward and slapping Grimm so hard on the back he stumbled. She gave him a smile. “You might be suspicious, and I might not really like you, but I’m happy you’re alright. This ghost would’ve been inconsolable, I’m sure.” 

The ghost didn’t respond. Grimm pulled them closer, and they simply enjoyed the closeness they shared. The warmth coming from their partner, their limbs moving to hug them tighter. It filled the Vessel with something much brighter and warmer than any infection. 

“It was good we were here,” Hornet replied to Iselda, and the mosquito returned a nod of acknowledgement. Hornet continued. “Though, it is a shame about your theater. By no will of your own, you … destroyed it.” 

Grimm and the Vessel looked up to see that the curtains were all but tatters, the stage was decorated in charred holes. Even the upper rafters seemed to be in mild disrepair from the fiery draconic manifestations the Nightmare King had released. All in all, they would be closed for a while … and right after the first performance. 

“It’s … definitely a shame,” Grimm frowned, though he hadn’t stopped holding the Vessel, who clung to his neck like a small child. “Still, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. We built it once I’m sure … we can build it again.” The enthusiasm had faded from Grimm’s voice. They’d worked _months_ on this theater, and they’d worked together, he and the Vessel. But now, they were going to have to replace almost everything. Grimm looked out to the crowd, about to request that they see themselves out so he could close up and begin thinking about repairs, only to see that all of the crowd was moving.

Every bug in the audience had started to move from their seat. Those with wings had already moved into the rafters, and were calling out for supplies or tools as they took apart damaged boards. A few smaller bugs with round shells had already crawled beneath the stage, and a few praying mantis were already pulling down the charred curtains. Grimm stood in shock. 

“Bugs work together,” Iselda said, crossing her arms proudly. “You might have had the audacity to try setting this whole building up on your own, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to _fix_ it on your own.” 

“Iselda, we need your nail,” a bug in the rafters cried, and Iselda proudly drew her nail. It was older, showing signs of wear and tear, but it had excellent craftsmanship. She winked at the couple on stage. 

“That’s my cue - I’ll see the two of you around. Coming!” With that, Iselda leapt from the stage, her wings beating to take her up to the rafters, where she sliced a breaking board away from the main walkway in a single swipe. Afterwards, she fluttered off to help another group struggling with attaching new boards. 

Grimm stood silently. He’d worked his hardest with the Vessel to make this building a success, and it had come down on them hard. The entire thing was in shambles, yet … it was being built back up, and not by his own hands. Ever since he’d left the troupe, he’d felt this strange pressure to be independent. After all, he had a small creature that clung to him so greedily that he felt he had to protect them. He had to protect them, care for them, and provide the best experience possible for them. Grimm had been trying so hard to do everything on his own, that he hadn’t stopped to think about the bugs around him and their own various talents. 

He hadn’t been alone in any of this, not from the start. There was an entire underground city working together as they tried to heal from the Infection, making up for what others lacked. He should have relied on them from the start, yet he’d been too proud to even consider asking for the aid of others. It took him nearly losing himself to the Nightmare Heart before he would cave in. Before, it might have told these bugs to simply leave, but now, he accepted their help with silence. Or, it should have been silence. Beneath him, the stage rumbled, and the wood gave out, causing Grimm to fall through and land on a pile of dirt with a light shining into his face. 

“Oops!” 

The voice that called out was soft, quiet, and somewhat high-pitched. A small round bug with a miner’s hat looked at Grimm, who was still holding the Vessel. They held a pickaxe, and looked with apologetic eyes. 

“I didn’t see you there, sorry! They asked me to break up the rocks so they can build a new stage! Can you get up?” She held out a hand, which the Vessel quickly grasped. The bug looked a bit surprised. “Oh, you’re the ghost! Who’s your friend?” 

Grimm blinked in surprise. 

“Grimm,” he answered grisply, moving to stand, though he did so half bent over due to the height of the stage. 

“Grimm? Nice to meet ya! I’m Myla, I usually work in the Crystal Mines, but I heard there was something fun going on in the Crossroads today!” The small bug beamed at the former troupe master, the mere aura of her disposition causing Grimm to flinch. It was just too bright for him to handle. 

“Yes, excellent,” he said, glancing away. “We really must be going -,” he started, only to see the Vessel had now attached themselves to Myla. Grimm sighed. “It seems the ghost has taken a liking to you. We live in the City of Tears - you should come by for a visit sometime, I’m sure they’d like that.” Simultaneously, both the Vessel and Myla seemed to radiate sunshine. 

“I definitely will!” Myla’s voice was invigorated, and the Vessel slowly climbed down from Myla, patting her on the back happily. 

“Myla, how’s the foundation looking? We have the new boards for the stage, we just have to break apart the old one. Is it smooth, yet?” A foreign voice called out from above, and Myla stiffened. 

“Just a little more time,” she called out, and then looked to Grimm and the Vessel. “I really should be going, I want to make sure this stage is perfect for you two! Your dance was really great, I can’t wait to see another one.” At that, Myla continued through her path beneath the stage, humming all the while. 

Grimm quickly scooped up the Vessel and climbed out from beneath the stage, walking towards the entrance. It seemed that they had everything covered here, after all. He was exhausted - going home and laying on the couch with his partner sounded like a dream, one that was just within his grasp if he left this theater. However, suddenly a loop of silk encircled him, and halted his movement. 

“Iselda said you would be helping,” Hornet said firmly. “So why is it that you are leaving?” 

“Right … helping,” Grimm said, setting down the Vessel, who peered up at him with an empty gaze. The silk thread loosened and fell at his feet, and he sighed. “Put me where you’d like.” 

The rest of that day, and even the rest of that week, was spent tearing down what the Nightmare King had destroyed in his rampage and cleaning up what the audience had left behind. Trash and scraps were collected, burnt rafters taken down, the stage disassembled entirely, and curtains removed. The fiery columns had even blown holes through the ceiling, which also required repair. Bugs brought in building materials from places Grimm hadn’t known existed, just because he’d been staying so secluded since the reopening of Hallownest. By the time they’d all finished, the entire theater looked brand new again. 

Grimm had been certain to bow to his helpers, his community, and had thanked them all generously for their support. While he’d struggled with something out of his control, they’d stepped in to help him. He supposed that he’d never been in anything alone after all, and that he should be trying to count on those closest to him for support when he needed it. After the repairs were finished, he’d closed the theater and taken the long walk home before collapsing on the sofa. He could feel his exoskeleton thanking him for the rest. 

However, it wasn’t long before the Vessel pounced on him, landing on his abdomen with such force it made Grimm groan in mild pain. 

“You can’t do that, you’re far too strong for me,” he said, lifting the Vessel up by their underarms and looking at them, holding them above his head. “You could hurt me.” Grimm set the Vessel down next to him, allowing them to rest in his shoulder against his side, before pulling off their mask again. The Vessel’s abyssal body wriggled in freedom before settling into the comfortable position next to their partner. 

Grimm had vague, scrambled memories of the events of the first performance. He remembered the rattling of chains, the feeling of suffocation, and the low, malicious laughter of the Heart. He could remember small instances of seeing the Vessel, but none of them were too vivid. He was, however, aware a battle had taken place, between what he could only assume was himself and his partner. Despite it being out of his control, he deeply regretted it. He should have known that he wasn’t pursuing a passion at that point, that he’d simply been following the Nightmare Heart’s whispered orders, and that it would set him up specifically to finish the ritual. He was a fool, or he had been. Now, the Nightmare Heart’s presence seemed completely erased from his consciousness. He felt no eyes on him, heard no rattling of chains, and felt no pressure. Following the Nightmare Heart’s demise, Grimm had also realized his magic had vanished. The source of his power had been defeated, and now he was … just a bug. No more fire or teleportation. It was regrettable, but he was certain that this … this moment with the Vessel lying against his side peacefully nearing sleep … was well worth it. He hadn’t bothered to tell them - then again, it hadn’t come up. Their life would be peaceful from now on, he was certain of it. There wouldn’t truly be a need for magic, anyway. 

Grimm closed his eyes. It had been so long since he’d known peace like this. No, had he ever known peace like this? Hardly. Grimm shifted his body, turning towards the back of the sofa and cradling the Vessel into his chest in a hug. They wriggled, wrapping tendrils around him in response. This was all he needed. Grimm pressed his face against the Vessel, his mouth lightly touching the top of the Vessel’s head in a sort of chaste kiss before slumber overtook his exhausted body. 

The Vessel leaned into it, tilting their own head up to place a return kiss on their partner’s cheek before nuzzling into their neck. They didn’t need to sleep, but they were enjoying this moment and, thanks to the Nightmare Heart’s destruction, there would be many more moments like this to come. They allowed themselves to be enveloped in Grimm’s warmth, and closed their eyes to join him in his restful sleep.


	4. A New Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimm is working his fingers to the exoskeleton trying to work on his first big production - yet between the Grimmchild's messes and his own work, he feels neglected and stressed. On top of it all, Hornet comes bearing a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm happy to see that you've chosen my fic to read!   
> It took me a while to get this one done. I think after this, the chapter lengths will become a bit shorter. I was really pushing myself to reach 20 page chapters, but I've come to realize even shorter ones are nice. (:   
> I hope you'll share your feedback with me, as always, and I love to hear what you think!   
> I got a little inspiration from one of my readers, who said they had trouble seeing Grimm magic-less.   
> I hope you enjoy it!

“Your name?” 

“Picasso.” 

“I see. And what have you to offer me, Picasso?” 

Grimm sat in the audience seating of his repaired theater, legs crossed, leaned back with a small clipboard and pen. He’d been here all morning, recruiting bugs for his next performance. The entire time he’d been performing, there’d only been two performers - himself and some challenger, the latest one being the ghost. Now, he was attempting to weave stories and form more intricate plays. He needed more than just himself, for that. After a morning of speaking with bugs large and small, his eyes were currently settled on a round, medium-sized bug with a colorful shell. They blinked at him. Grimm’s gaze narrowed. 

“I love art,” the one named Picasso suddenly said excitedly. “I can draw and color things. I’m sure you’ll need big pieces of art for your actors to act in front of, right?” The bug had lifted their hands up in a grandiose display of what they could potentially make, as if they were willing to completely paint the back of the stage. When they finished, they looked to Grimm hopefully, who looked on in silence. Flustered, they continued. “I-I-I mean, not a lot of bugs are as good at drawing as I am! I can make portraits, and environments, and huge spots of color!” 

“Did you color your shell?” Grimm’s voice cut through their nervous rambling, and they flinched. 

“M-M-My shell’s colored?” 

There was an awkward silence that hung between the two, and Grimm finally clicked his tongue. 

“I see. Well, I don’t have enough artists, yet. I could use your help.” Grimm’s gaze was crisp and professional as it moved to the Picasso bug, who had already begun to vibrate in excitement. Grimm’s look stopped them completely. “However, this is a hobby, an extracurricular. In the future I may be able to offer payments for services, but currently, I haven’t a geo to my name. Not that I can afford to spend on this establishment, anyway.” Grimm jotted down the bug’s name on his clipboard and stood, approaching the painted insect. They quivered nervously, but Grimm held out a hand. “Welcome aboard.” 

The bug latched onto Grimm’s hand in excitement, leading to the former troupe master to flick him off with a few strong shakes. 

“Don’t touch me,” he said firmly, dusting off his hand on his cloak. The Picasso bug gave a nervous nod. “Be here by sunset tomorrow. We’ll be having our first meeting as a troupe.” Grimm’s words were short, quick, and to the point before he walked past the Picasso bug, who quickly skipped off stage. 

Grimm lightly pressed his hand to his forehead in exhaustion. He’d been there since sunset, the beginning of the day for bugs, and now it was turning to dusk once more. He’d spoken with actor after actor, playwright after playwright, and he was only just now able to go home. He’d almost hoped that his knight would have appeared with a lunch of some sort, or perhaps just to say hello, but they were likely at home with their hands full taking care of the Grimmchild. While the child wasn’t exactly difficult, they did require plenty of maintenance. It wasn’t a day at home if some part of their upholstery wasn’t lit aflame by the beastie. And now, Grimm didn’t have his Nightmare Heart magic to simply wave it all away. He’d tried, in private, to summon his flames, but they refused to show themselves. 

The troupe master’s steps were slow as he ventured through Hallownest, all the way back to his apartment that he shared with the Vessel. His hand carefully grasped the doorknob, and he pushed it open, holding his breath. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he came home anymore. Either the house was going to be burning down or everything was going to be eerily peaceful. Grimm came home to the former. 

The back of the sofa was showing the beginning signs of catching fire, while smoke had filled the upper portion of the room. The Grimmchild circled the main living space, squawking and crying out in a complete and utter tantrum, spitting fiery embers as it did. On the ground, the Vessel hopped around desperately trying to catch the child. Grimm stood in the doorway for the briefest of moments as the scene filled his sense of perception, and then he lunged for the sofa, patting the flames with his bare hands without thinking. 

“Fuck! Ouch! Gods…!” Grimm immediately staggered back and looked for something to put the flames out with, his own hands stinging. He pulled out his clipboard he’d used for the auditions and began furiously whacking the small fire until it was reduced to a small patch of burnt upholstery. Panting, Grimm turned to the Grimmchild, who continued to squawk and cry out. Just as he was about to rip it out of the sky, the Vessel jumped to their wall and rebounded into the air, clutching the child with both hands and stroking it gently until it calmed down. Too angry for words at the moment, he took a knee on the sofa and opened the window behind it to release the smoke. Afterwards, Grimm moved through the room and confirmed there was no more damage to the apartment. He stood in the bedroom, looking at his charred clipboard. 

Why was this so often the scenario he came home to? He’d been working diligently to prepare for a community performance in his new theater, and as a result he was rarely home. As of late, he almost preferred to be out of the apartment, but he couldn’t afford to. The fire that was on that sofa would have no doubt spread to the rest of the living space, and the Vessel wasn’t able to control fire. Grimm wasn’t either, he supposed, but at least he could put one out. The former troupe master sat heavily on the bed. 

How was he supposed to handle this? All of it? He was starting his own theater, and it had been restored to a beautiful state by the community, but he hadn’t put on his own play yet. The Knight was getting taller, the tips of their horns now nearly reaching his shoulders. So much seemed to be changing, things he was unaware of until they’d already changed. Grimm released a sigh charged with defeat. Just as he was considering slipping into the void of sleep, there was a quiet knock on the door, and the former troupe master lifted his head to see his partner standing in the threshold, Grimmchild curled up in their arms. 

“How can such a peaceful looking creature wreak so much havoc?” Grimm’s words were out of his mouth before he knew it, not that it mattered. “I suppose I’m the one responsible. I’ve become my own undoing.” With a quiet groan, he fell back on the bed and wrapped his cloak around him. With his thin physique, he appeared to almost be a stick with a head. 

There was no vocal reply from the Vessel, though there was the quiet, steady sound of footsteps. They crawled carefully onto the bed, and sat next to the one who they’d fought so hard to preserve. The Grimmchild cooed inquisitively. At the shift in weight, Grimm opened an eye to look at the knight, who stiffened under his gaze. 

“I am not angry,” Grimm finally said, and his partner relaxed. Instead, Grimm reached out, wrapping an arm around the Vessel and pulling them into his chest. Somewhere in the movement, the Grimmchild tumbled out of their grasp, and landed on the bed, head perked up at the pair. “I simply wish to enjoy peace at home, by your side. Is that impossible?” After a moment, Grimm removed the Vessel’s mask, setting it down next to them. “You do not need to wear this at home, I have told you this many times.” 

The Vessel watched for a moment, uncertain of how to interpret their lover’s words. He’d said he wasn’t angry, yet everything he’d done had betrayed that. Yet, now he was holding the Vessel close, so close, in fact, that they could feel the warmth that radiated from Grimm’s chest. They finally resigned to indulging him, nuzzling their head into Grimm’s chin affectionately. The former troupe master hummed in enjoyment, pulling the Vessel a little closer and wrapping the cloak around the two of them like a blanket, protecting them from the threat of separating. They enjoyed their comfortable silence, but it wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door. Grimm mumbled in displeasure before standing up, the Vessel still held within his cloak. It secured them against his chest like some sort of large child. When Grimm opened the door, a small bug in a red cloak with a needle strapped to her back stood before them. Her face began to redden. 

“I did not intend to intrude,” Hornet said, though she was now avoiding their eyes. Her gaze darted around the apartment, searching for anything else she could keep her eyes on. Anything but the couple currently embracing before her. 

“You misunderstand,” Grimm grumbled, opening his cloak to reveal that the knight was currently wrapped around his torso in a very thorough hug. Despite Grimm’s insistence that she misunderstood, it took the arachnidian princess a few moments to gain the courage to look. Once she understood, she cleared her throat. 

“Of course. I do not believe you would answer the door in such a state, lest you have a death wish,” Hornet said. Before Grimm could point out she’d been too embarrassed to kill anyone, she continued. “I have come to deliver a message.” She held out a scroll, sealed with what appeared to be black wax. The Vessel detached from Grimm and scampered off, leaving the master of the troupe to inspect its contents. However, upon reaching for it, he was denied by Hornet pulling it away. He glanced at her before reaching again, but again, Hornet maneuvered it away from his grasp. 

“Why do you taunt me, child,” Grimm almost growled, though there was no real anger behind it. It was only mild irritation at this point, his rest having been disturbed by such a trivial task as delivering a scroll. It could have waited. 

“This scroll is for the little ghost,” Hornet said, her tone obstinate. “I will not be delivering it to the likes of you, reaper.” 

“You know more than others how far that is from the truth, now,” Grimm frowned as he straightened up, no longer attempting to bend and seize the scroll from her height. If she refused to give it to him, he wouldn’t be looking like a fool any longer. “You know my name. Why do you insist on such … pseudonyms? You referred to the knight as one, as well.” 

“The names I address you by are what you are, past or present,” Hornet said with a small frown in response. “Needless to say, they are accurate.” There was a long pause. “I also … enjoy it.” 

“Keep your tiny passions out of the business of others, arachnid,” Grimm scolded, but it only seemed to rile up the princess. 

“Perhaps you should avoid matching such titles, then, reaper!” Her shout came, but she quickly relaxed as the tiny pitter-patter of feet sounded, and the Vessel appeared, now donning their mask. Hornet nodded to them, and held out the scroll. “This is for you, ghost - wait! Hey!” Just as she held it out, Grimm snatched it from her grasp, grinning mildly at her disdain before handing it to his partner, unopened. The girl before him seemed to simmer before looking to the knight, who slowly opened the scroll, showing only the faintest of struggles with the wax seal before peeling it off. There were a few moments of silence before they held the paper up to Grimm, and he shot a smug look towards the lady in red as he plucked it from his partner’s hand. His eyes glided across the paper easily, reading the words carefully and quickly all at once. 

“A… family reunion,” Grimm said, his eyes moving to the knight, who shrugged, before moving back to Hornet, who staggered back, her face growing pink in embarrassment. 

“It is more than that,” she stammered. “It is a meeting of the voidlings, those wronged by the pale king. Now that they’ve united against the Infection, they seem to have regained some sentience. Rather than wandering mindlessly, they seem to be … revived, almost.” Hornet’s tone had become serious over time. “While they maintain their ethereal bodies, they have begun communicating. They interact. It is … interesting, to say the least.” 

“And you’ve been to the Abyss? You speak as if from experience.” Grimm’s words were in a quiet scoff. Hornet’s gaze fixed itself onto Grimm, so long that he almost felt uncomfortable. “Yes?” 

“I was born to the pale king’s plan,” Hornet says softly, turning her gaze to the knight. “We are siblings, if only through our blood father. So yes, I have been to the Abyss. For answers, and to see my other half siblings.” 

The straightforward answer was not what Grimm had expected. He’d expected something more aloof, something that kept the truth concealed. However, she’d confessed. He supposed that was better than playing mind games. 

“That would explain how you got the letter,” Grimm sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He only remained like that for a moment before holding the letter down to the Vessel, who picked it from Grimm’s hand. “Did they happen to entrust you with a date and time? That ever-so-crucial information was omitted from the invitation, it seems.” 

“Tomorrow,” Hornet replied, and Grimm felt his whole body tense. “Is...that a problem for you?” 

“I have a production I am intending to cast tomorrow,” Grimm sighed, shaking his head. “However, I won’t be attending the reunion. After all, I’ve not been wronged by the Pale King, and despite my appearance, I am not made of void.” A soft tug on Grimm’s cloak brought his attention to the Vessel, who held up the paper, pointing at one sentence in particular. Grimm squinted his eyes suspiciously as he read it aloud. “...You may bring one guest.” He stood up straight and released a quiet groan, which lead to quicker, more frequent tugs on his cloak in rapid succession. It was incessant, and Grimm could feel his eye twitch in irritation as the arachid princess looked on in mild amusement. “Fine, fine. I will be in attendance as my partner’s additional attendee.” 

“Understood,” Hornet said with a curt nod. “I will inform the Hollow Knight.” 

“The who?” 

“The Hollow Knight,” Hornet repeated, turning her back on Grimm. However, she was able to feel his gaze on her back, as if demanding more information. “He was sacrificed by our father, the one who was expected to single-handedly hold back the infection.” She looked over her shoulder. “You experienced his struggle firsthand, reaper.” 

It took Grimm a moment to realize who Hornet was referring to. Holding back the infection … she could only mean the abomination that Grimm had seen his partner fighting before they’d been transported to the dream world. The Hollow Knight - a creature that resembled his own knight, though much larger. Why was that? Perhaps this event would be the time to ask. The Vessel struggled to communicate elaborate ideas, what about the Hollow Knight? All Grimm had heard from that creature was a scream. Afterwards he’d been too busy helping the Vessel to notice anything else. But, he supposed it’d been quite some time since then. Perhaps they’d matured, or had learned to communicate without … screaming. 

“Is the Hollow Knight the one who arranged this?” Grimm gestured vaguely to the invitation. 

“Yes,” Hornet said with a nod. “The Children of Hallownest have been at odds with one another since birth. He wishes to end the feuding and believes a reunion would help to lift our spirits. Now, I must be going, Reaper.” Before Grimm could chastise her for calling him such a name again, she threw out her needle and swung off between the buildings of the City. Grimm released a slight huff at the chance he was denied, but turned as his cloak was tugged by the Vessel. 

“Ah, yes,” Grimm sighed, leaning down and scooping up his partner, though with a quiet grunt of effort. They’d grown since he was able to carry them one-handed after the fight with the Radiance. “Where were we?” 

At the insinuation, the Vessel wiggled excitedly in Grimm’s grasp, wrapping their tendrils around the troupe master’s neck. Grimm carefully removed their mask, and shut the door behind them. “Right, right, enjoying peace at home. With you. Close to me. Unless you were uncomfortable?” At the question, the Vessel’s abyssal tendrils seemed to fire up into angry spikes, which caused Grimm to chuckle. “Of course. Sometimes, I forget that you enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours.” 

The two of them retired back to the bedroom, and simply slept together peacefully, wrapped in the warmth of their bed and one another’s affections. 

***

The next day, Grimm awoke early. Before escaping the bed, he carefully peeled the Vessel’s tendrils from his body and set them in the middle of the bed next to the Grimmchild, pulling the covers up and over the both of them. This was typically how his mornings had been going ever since he’d started attempting to procure a cast for a new production. While he awoke early to prepare for the day, the Vessel slept in, occasionally tossing or turning in Grimm’s absence. Now, he stepped out of the bedroom, shuffled through his papers on the main room’s table, and pulled out a spare piece and a quill. He quickly scrawled the words “closed for today - auditions to continue tomorrow” across the paper, and stepped out of his love nest, locking the door carefully with a sigh. He hoped that the Vessel would be there when he returned. He wasn’t particularly well traveled with the lower regions of Hallow Nest. He knew the City of Tears, and had seen the Hive and the Mantis Village pointed out to him on a map, but anything lower was foreign. 

Grimm’s walk to his auditorium took the same amount of time as usual, but his mind was distracted. Was what he wore terribly important? How was he supposed to conduct himself around the relatives of his lover? What was more, how was he supposed to describe their relationship? He certainly considered the knight to be his partner, someone he could count on and someone he intended to live the rest of his life with, but … how did you just mention that in conversation? Grimm’s brain began to throw itself through a myriad of scenarios that were so unlikely he almost laughed, before he finally shook his head. 

“I just avoid it, it’s that simple.” 

The walk to the auditorium felt shorter with his mind busy, and he quickly attached the paper to the main door, smoothing over the edges and hanging his head with a sigh. He felt the tiniest bit guilty, cancelling his day’s plans so abruptly with so little notice for those who were interested in his dream. He rubbed the back of his neck, almost in embarrassment before turning around to head back to his apartment. The Vessel would be waking up soon, he guessed. However, there was an individual in his path, a woman dressed in a simple red dress with large pink wings folded back. Golden hair stemmed from her head and curled down the right side of her face, looking carefully disheveled. 

“You are closed today?” The quiet gentleness in her voice made Grimm’s eyes widen slightly. “A shame. I was hoping to audition.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Grimm said, and for once, he almost seemed sincere to someone other than his knight. “I have an arrangement I was only informed of yesterday.” He paused for a moment, thinking, while he looked at the disappointed woman before him. “...You, what do you do?” 

“Me?” The woman perked up, her eyes almost glistening in hope. “I sing.” 

“Can you act?” 

“I could try. I am a performer, after all.” 

There was a short time of silence between them, before Grimm finally opened the door. 

“I have time for one,” he said strictly, pointing at the open door. The butterfly fluttered inside, nodding her head in gratefulness. 

“Of course, I will do my best,” she replied as Grimm followed her in and guided her towards the stage. He wasn’t entirely certain if he should be doing an audition when the building was supposed to be closed, but the way this woman spoke gave him hope. Her voice was smooth, and he was curious as to how she sang. He hadn’t been planning on a musical, but he could definitely put a solo in his play for her if she managed to impress him. 

Marissa took her place on stage, and Grimm found his usual seat, sitting carefully and crossing his legs, clasping his hand around their intersection. His eyes suddenly changed in demeanor, from that of a curious spectator to that of a critical director. The woman before him, however, did not seem to flinch. In fact, she seemed almost more comfortable on the stage than she had approaching a total stranger in front of a strange building. Just her complete resolve was enough to ease Grimm’s gaze. The woman’s wings unfurled, and her mouth opened. 

She began quietly, a soft almost hum of words that were difficult to make out. Yet, her voice carried such a smooth, rich tone to it as it crescendoed to a deeper, more dense series of notes that Grimm forgot to listen to the lyrics. The sweet melody of her voice filled the entire auditorium with what felt like minimal effort, but what Grimm knew was taking a significant power from her lungs. The careful transitions between octaves and even keys was enough to make Grimm raise his eyebrows. She was clearly a professional. He held up his hand, and the songstress continued on for a moment before pausing. Perhaps it’d taken her a second to see his hand. 

“Why are you here?” The words were crisp, quick, and full of almost suspicion. He couldn’t imagine why a professional would be in his little passion project, a place where he’d been very careful to be open about not having the money to pay the performers. So, why … ? 

“Do you not know the knight?” Her voice was almost sheepish as she spoke, but the words caught Grimm’s interest in a way that left his stomach uneasy. “The little ghost who wanders Hallow Nest. I have heard rumors of their favor belonging to a tall, thin, scarlet troupe master.” 

“I do,” Grimm answered plainly. “Answer my question.” 

“I feel I owe the little ghost for their help,” she said with a sad smile. “They rescued me from the Infection, from the nightmares that plagued my consciousness. I was grateful, yet …” For the first time since he’d seen her, she frowned. Disappointed. “...They did not visit my shows. I wished to repay them with my service, but without a hint as to their whereabouts, I found myself following rumors to this theater. If I can assist you, I feel that I may be able to pay back the favor, somehow.” 

“So, is it out of obligation?” Another quick question, to the point. “If it is, I don’t want you here. I’m searching for individuals who have a passion for acting, and who are here to be part of something larger than themselves. A production, a performance for the world to notice and partake in. If you are merely here to serve some favor, I don’t need it.” Grimm stood, crossing his arms almost stubbornly. The butterfly on stage looked shocked. 

“I’m afraid I’ve been misunderstood,” she said with a shake of her head. “While that may be the reason I first came, I have always loved the stage. Performing is very close to my heart, though acting is new. This is … merely the only way I could think to repay the kindness of my savior. I think I may have found my way to this theater regardless, though.” 

Grimm’s eyes settled steadily on the woman for a few moments before giving a quiet groan of resignation. He supposed it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t want someone joining for a reason outside of their own interest, but if this woman held interest in the project in addition to a reason for seeking him out, he guessed he couldn’t really ignore her. She also had a voice that Grimm would actually murder for, though he wouldn’t only accept her for her talent. 

“Do as you like,” Grimm said and, while he was expecting for her to rush out in fear of just how cold he could be, she actually reached out and took his hand to shake it gently. It left Grimm in stunned silence. 

“I would like to join your production,” she said with a soft smile. It suited her much better than that sad smile. “Though, I know you must be going. I will be here tomorrow for your rehearsal.” 

“Right,” Grimm said, taking his hand back and giving a curt nod. “This way, then. I haven’t got all day.” He quickly stepped away, guiding her back towards the way they had come in. She moved out after him, and, after a respectful bow of her head, departed. Grimm waited for five minutes, even after she’d left, for her to disappear. He’d seen her heading the way he’d also be traveling - and he wanted to avoid small talk as much as possible. After the time elapsed, he began walking, and returned to his apartment swiftly. 

Upon opening the door, however, there was an odd chill to the room. It was unsettlingly quiet, that there weren’t any fires being started. There was no smoke, no crying or screaming, and no sounds of chaos. There was only silence and the feeling of loneliness. 

“...I missed them,” Grimm groaned, bringing a hand up to his face and rubbing the top of his head almost stressfully. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened, but … well. Nothing more to do than attempt to join them.” The former troupe master closed and locked the door once more, and began his descent further into Hallownest. He vaguely knew where he was _supposed_ to be going, but whether or not he would arrive at his destination in a timely manner was something that he wasn’t certain of. Despite the various improvements that had been made to Hallownest, there still had yet to be an elevator made that descended further than the City of Tears. And so, Grimm was left to step through the Royal Waterways. 

Many of the leaks that had been present before the revival of the nest had been patched up. The water now ran clean, and while there was still a cacophony of disturbing noises reverberating off the walls, Grimm was certain he would be fine. Wait, or would he? His confident steps suddenly grew much, much more hesitant. He didn’t have his magic anymore. His flames had been doused, and he would now only have his body to rely on. He didn’t have a nail, and the knight had gone ahead of him. The troupe master was defenseless. 

“As if,” Grimm muttered to himself, and continued his stroll through the underground piping. If anything _did_ come lunging at him from the shadows, he’d … firmly scold it for doing such a thing, and then kick it. Or perhaps run. He would come to some plan of action when the problem arose. Grimm continued through the area, hopping down at every opportunity. After all, the Abyss was supposed to be far beneath the nest - at least, that’s what it sounded like. When they’d fought the Radiance, the abyssal creatures had come from far below their stage, and had slunk back down after their work had been done. Yet, the further down Grimm went, the more the air seemed to grow stale. He supposed that was natural - a place this far below the surface would be rather stagnant without activity or air flow. Despite knowing this, Grimm was uneasy. 

His descent continued past the Royal Waterways, until he reached an area that struck him as old, or rather, ancient. He passed the tramway, and followed the tunnels further down. He was uncertain exactly how he’d come so far - and wasn’t entirely certain he knew the way back - but surely if he could still descend, then he was going the right way. He came to an open door, passed its threshold, and had to halt, for he almost stepped right off of the edge of a cliff. Cliffs? This deep in the nest? Incredible. 

He hopped down, jumping from platform to platform so as not to simply freefall through an unknown area. Before too long, he saw a light. He made his way towards it, and arrived at stable ground. The door before him was huge, much taller than he was, with tiny blue bulbs that radiated a soft glow. He hadn’t expected the Abyss to have such a glowing front door, but perhaps this was their way of making sure he could find it. How could he miss a blue, glowing door? The troupe master stepped forwards and pushed on the door, and then pulled, to no avail. He cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me,” he called. “I am here as the knight’s guest. I was invited by Hornet, though against her wishes.” 

Silence. 

“Open the door,” Grimm called again, crossing his arms, this time in irritation. If there truly was a family reunion occurring, surely they’d have someone to listen for new arrivals. Then again, he guessed that most of the attendants _lived_ here. 

The silence dragged on. 

Finally, Grimm threw up his hands. 

“Fine. Don’t open the door. I tried to enter, and you’ve all lost your chance.” The troupe master turned, and began to prepare to jump to the platform he’d hopped down from, but the loud creaking of a door opening stopped him. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, only to see the soft blue light leaking out of the room. “Hmph. That’s better.” He turned, and entered the room. 

Once inside, the blue glow became almost constant. There were small bulbs, similar to the first collection, that decorated the interior of this passage. In addition, Grimm could make out the gleam of spikes wedged into the walls. He’d need to be careful, or he would end up with an injury. Was this how the Abyss welcomed all of its visitors? No wonder his little ghost was so strong. 

He was careful as he jumped from safe space to safe space, using the light of the bulbs to guide his decisions. The further he went in, the more frequent they seemed to be, and he also noticed small plants with blue butterflies growing out of the ground. Their wings fluttered briefly whenever he passed. Was this really the Abyss? He slipped through a thin corridor with spikes on either side. If it wasn’t, it was too late for him to retreat, now. 

After a period of time of exploring and working his way deeper into this area, Grimm found himself in a particularly bright room decorated with vines and bulbs shimmering in blue. There appeared to be a tall table, or was it a shrine? He glanced left and right. Was this some sort of prank? 

_You who dares to demand entrance to my domain, what do you so desire?_

“I desire to go to the abyss,” Grimm said, crossing his arms. His eyes darted around the room, but he hadn’t found the source of the voice. It was low and rumbling, as if something that had been sleeping for so long had finally decided to awaken. “I presume I’m not in the right place.” 

_You stand within my domain, yet this is not what you desire?_

“What are you?” Grimm reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t in any position to backtalk some all powerful being, and he wasn’t in the mood for mind games. “You claim this is your domain, but how can that be so?” 

_I am a being, far beyond your comprehension. Though, you do interest me. I have not seen a flame like yours in some time._

“Right,” Grimm said, averting his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if he was actually averting them. He still didn’t know where the voice was coming from. “I have dealt with beings beyond my comprehension before, and I must say, I dislike them.” 

_You have been used by the Nightmare Heart, a creature of old. Yet, your tether is cut._

“You sound confused,” Grimm said, crossing his arms. “Is there a problem?” 

_Such a feat should be impossible. Yet, you rebel against your creator. You remind me of one I once cherished._

“It was in my way,” Grimm replied. He considered asking about the one this thing cherished, but figured he wouldn’t recognize the name anyway. Why bother asking? 

_You, who have been bestowed the gift of temporary life. Would you not follow my word?_

“The last time I followed someone’s word, things went poorly.” Grimm had already started to leave, making his way through the narrow spaces and avoiding the spiky environment. However, the voice continued to reverberate through the cavern, plaguing his consciousness. 

_My word, to protect life._

“That’s nice,” Grimm said, hopping onto a platform. 

_I desire a new disciple - perhaps one capable of keeping my virtues alive. Joni, though as much as I believed in them, has perished. Without a disciple, I, too, will surely fade from existence._

“Oh, so this is for you, after all,” Grimm said, clawing his way up a bare wall. Right about now, he would have killed for his teleportation ability. 

_Should you vow to uphold my virtues, I may bestow upon you a gift - one for you to use without consequence, and one that can surely help you defend the life which you hold most dear._

“Is that so,” Grimm grunted with effort as he hauled himself over the edge, managing to stand up. “So, I protect the lives of others, and in exchange, you give me the power to do so?” 

_That is correct._

“I agree,” Grimm said with a sigh. It wasn’t every day that he met higher beings like this, and it certainly wasn’t every day he was offered up the power to defend himself. Did he trust this voice? No, not an ounce, but he was positive that if he agreed, the voice would stop talking. The worst case scenario was that he became indebted to this disembodied voice, similar to the Nightmare Heart, but he’d been able to break free from even that. The Vessel had had a huge part in such an affair, but a part of him hoped that even if this choice turned out to be wrong, his knight would save him then, too. 

But Grimm was never wrong. 

Just as Grimm started to haul himself up another wall, there was a bright flash of blue light that sent him staggering. The butterflies from the plants he’d passed on his way in had suddenly detached, and now surrounded him.

“Away with you lot,” Grimm shouted, swatting at the tiny insects, though they were unrelenting. He was absorbed in their cloud, and despite the terrifying sensation of being restrained, he felt … light. He hadn’t realized just how heavy he’d been. One by one, the butterflies dematerialized, their essence disappearing against his flesh, until all of them had disappeared. 

_It is done._

Once again, the voice sounded tired, and after their statement, Grimm could almost hear the sound of heavy breathing associated with deep slumber. Did such a feat truly take a large amount of energy? So large, in fact, that an abyssal creature would have difficulty staying awake afterwards? Perhaps. 

Grimm suddenly jumped, far higher than he’d ever jumped before. He jumped so high, in fact, that he nearly hit the spikes, but at the last moment, his form disappeared, appearing at the entrance in a flash of blue. He stood outside the main door, staring at his hands, dumbfounded. He hadn’t found the Abyss, but he’d found something perhaps greater. Maybe, just maybe, his abilities were similar? Was it customized to what he knew? 

A quiet nod at the door, and Grimm leapt down into the abyss without looking. The thrill of free falling through the air filled his stomach and sent a wave of excitement over him. Before he knew it, he was … _laughing_. Just as the ground came into view, his speed slowed, his feet releasing blue sparkles as they made contact with the ground. Grimm actively had to try and restrain the excited giggles in his throat. He’d been powerless for some time, and now he finally had power back. He was no longer completely dependent on his knight - which, while it had been nice in its own way, he much preferred this. He’d just begun walking when he heard the tiny pitter patter of feet, and a familiar figure came into view. 

“Ah, knight,” he said, taking a knee as they arrived in front of him. “You left without me. I was quite lonely.” The Vessel reached up and cupped Grimm’s cheek in response, and Grimm merely smiled. “Yes, I’m more than safe. Let’s get to this reunion of yours. I’m excited to meet your family.” 

With that, he stood, and took the Vessel by the hand. He’d keep his new gift a secret for until after the reunion.


	5. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support! The kind comments that you all leave give me the biggest smiles. It's been a little hard to write recently, but I did manage to make the next chapter. It's shorter than the others, largely because I convinced myself that not every chapter has to be 20 pages.   
> I hope you all enjoy it, and I'm excited to see what happens next! As always, feel free to leave any constructive feedback for me in the comments! I appreciate you!

The Vessel had found Grimm standing in the Abyss, though he had been some distance away from where the actual meeting would be taking place. They’d been worried, since they’d left before he’d joined them. They knew they should’ve waited, yet they’d been so eager to meet those who they’d spent so much time from. They’d even taken the Grimmchild, worried about another small fire being started. After the look on Grimm’s face and the way he’d seemingly crumpled in on himself, the Vessel didn’t dare let that happen again. In fact, they had to make it up to him some way. Maybe they could do a favor, or surprise him … 

“Is this it?” 

Grimm’s voice was low and crisp, although the Vessel had noticed that his tone was a bit lighter ever since they’d gone and found him. Was he happy to see them? Or maybe his work had gone well before he’d returned. The Vessel shook their head to snap themselves away from their thoughts, and Grimm frowned. 

“It isn’t?” 

The Vessel hurriedly waved their arms to clear up the misunderstanding, though Grimm tilted his head in confusion. He was patient, so patient, but surely there was an easier way to communicate. The knight moved among the Abyss, towards a hole in the ground. They remembered punching through it long ago, in their quest to halt the Infection, but now it had been smoothed into some sort of entrance. Though the Vessel pulled, Grimm seemed reluctant. 

“Your family? Are down there? In that hole?” 

The voice wasn’t necessarily disgusted, but it was clear that Grimm wasn’t the most eager to go diving into holes in random places surrounded by broken masks. The Vessel had difficulty masking their disappointment, even tilting their head back down towards the hole. They then turned to lead Grimm away. They weren’t going to push him to attend the event, no matter how excited they’d been. If he was uncomfortable, it was out. 

“I asked you a question,” Grimm said almost firmly, pulling back on the hand they both held, yanking back the knight’s attention. They could feel a strange warmth spreading through their chest, and then a small burst of energy in their limbs. They restrained it, and gave a few light nods. “I see,” Grimm replied, and then pulled his knight towards the hole. “In we go, then, I suppose.” The Vessel was suddenly dragged in the direction of the chasm, and the duo dropped down even further into the Abyss. 

A strange, strangling sensation filled the Vessel’s chest. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and felt as if a hand was pulling at the inner organs that they did not possess. They felt as if they were being pulled apart. They felt anxiety that their lover had just jumped down a pit, and after his connection to the Nightmare Heart had been severed. The knight moved to throw Grimm up, to switch their positions as they fell, but prior to that movement, they caught a strange blue light. Small butterflies that they noticed from the lifeblood pods around the nest began to form from seemingly nowhere, fluttering beneath Grimm’s feet and slowing their descent. Likewise, they also enveloped the Vessel, pulling gently on their limbs as they were lowered. The blue light faded, and the pair were left alone, the butterflies dissipating from existence. They looked to Grimm, who seemed to be looking every which way to avert his eyes. Was it a secret? Why was Grimm keeping secrets? 

“Listen, this -” Grimm sighed, shaking his head. “I had a conversation with someone. It’s nothing to be concerned about.” The troupe master gave a dismissive wave and began to walk down a carefully organized path of masks. They were packed so densely it was as if the floor was made with them, but the Vessel had seen it all before. They were staring at the back of the man who’d just used some unknown ability that they hadn’t been aware of. Was there more they didn’t know? More that Grimm wished to keep secret? They wanted to ask who they’d spoken with, what exactly “it” was that wasn’t to be concerned about. But their neck felt constricted. It had always lacked the ability to make noise, yet...it had never felt so suffocating. 

“Are you coming?” 

The voice seemed to ricochet within their mask, and they jerked their head up. It’d fallen a bit in thought, but now they trained their gaze intently on Grimm, who’d stopped only a few feet ahead. His lips turned upwards slightly into a small smirk. _You’re hopeless,_ it said affectionately. He reached out a hand, and they instinctively took it. If they were together like this, then … maybe a secret or two didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t even talk. Everything they knew was a secret from Grimm. So why did it hurt? 

The path was a winding one that had Grimm muttering under his breath about modern architecture, needing signs, and having the reunion in a more accessible location. Every word chipped away at the Vessel’s heart. Why? Perhaps it was because something they were a part of was being a nuisance. _They_ felt as if they were a nuisance. Bothering Grimm was the last thing they wanted to do. 

“Knight?” 

The voice sounded a bit more distant, but to the contrary, Grimm was kneeling in front of them. Their eyes, filled with scarlet, eyed them with...concern. “You stopped walking. Are you ill? Oh, wait, what is this -” Suddenly his speech became far more frazzled, and his normally smooth appearance fell away. He appeared uncomfortable, confused, and uncertain. The Vessel reached out, as if to try and provide some sort of calming gesture, caressing his cheek. Only after the sound of slowly dripping water sounded did the Vessel realize that they were leaking. Dark, wet matter spilled from their eye sockets, forming tiny streams down their mask. 

“What’s all this about?” Grimm wiped at the streams with trembling hands, his head tilted as he encouraged the Vessel to try and explain. They couldn’t, though. Their throat was closed off. All they could do was stare at Grimm in hopes that some sort of understanding would happen - he was always good at understanding them, after all. He was so good, yet, his face showed such confusion that the Vessel was losing hope by the second. 

“Are you the one the knight so seeks?” 

The voice that called out was low and had a light rasp to it, as if it hadn’t spoken in quite some time. Grimm stood and turned, a hand moving to push the knight behind his thin leg, as if it would somehow conceal them. 

“Who asks?” Grimm’s words were full of their usual confidence. The Vessel watched as the shadows around them began to ripple, several of them unraveling to reveal shades much like themself. Grimm hardly seemed phased, though a much larger one creeping forward to face them did grab his attention. This one resembled the Vessel, though much taller. No, Grimm could draw another connection. This was the abomination, the Hollow Knight. It was the creature who’d screamed so loudly that Grimm had rushed in without a second thought to save his partner. 

“The Hollow Knight,” the voice croaked, and the Vessel flinched. Their sibling stood before them, and was currently facing Grimm. The shades that surrounded them stared openly, unflinching, neither hostile nor somber. It was almost as if they were … observing. The knight reached up, wiping at their eye sockets, before scurrying in front of Grimm and looking up to the void being. Their face turned down to acknowledge the Vessel, and their eyes almost narrowed in what could have been interpreted as an amused expression. 

“Well, Hollow Knight,” Grimm said haughtily, placing a hand on the knight’s head in front of him, “I have quite a few suggestions for this reunion. First, the location -” 

“Why do they weep?” 

“W-Weep?” In the event, Grimm had almost forgotten about his lover’s tearstained mask. “That’s...an excellent question.” 

Silence seemed to spread through the group, the question redirected to the Vessel. They shook their head, and made a few gestures with their limbs. Desperately they tried to explain. They’d gotten upset on their own, that Grimm hadn’t caused such a dramatic reaction from them. They searched the expressions of the shades, only to see that nothing had changed. The Vessel dropped their limbs, and their head slowly drooped. A thin hand rested on it, and Grimm cleared his throat, refocusing the attention on himself. 

“There you have it,” Grimm said. Shocked, the ghost looked up to the troupe master, who stood confidently before the abyssal creations. “I don’t believe them, but that is their explanation.” A quiet hum seemed to fill the air as the shades shook slightly. Were they … laughing? Murmuring? 

“How could you understand our kind?” The voice crept out of the maw of the larger shade that was presented before them. It held a sort of confusion, although there was also a bitterness to the tone that set the Vessel on edge. Grimm, however, only smiled. 

“They have a voice, contrary to popular belief,” Grimm explained. “It is one that I do not understand yet myself, but one that does ring clearly most times. Perhaps it is because they have been present in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind, or perhaps it is because I simply wish to understand them so. I simply listen.” The troupe master moved his hand from the top of his companion’s head to their shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. “Now, about the location of this reunion -” 

Despite the initial hostility that had run out from the shades over the Vessel’s tears, Grimm was able to work the crowd very well. He gave suggestions for signs to indicate a path to the event, and then explained that while the Abyss was definitely dark, it needn’t be so “dull”. He chastised the shades for appearing out of nowhere, and informed them that doing such would have scared their guest if it hadn’t been Grimm. The troupe master worked the room fluently, and as he walked around, he seemed to gather a small following of shades. 

The Vessel watched him from afar, though they attempted to distract themselves by engaging with a handful of shades a distance away, including the Hollow Knight. Their siblings who’d all failed to reach the end of the trail out of the abyss were here. They’d grown up with them, struggled together, but … the Vessel hadn’t thought anything of leaving them behind. For them to be here with them once more, without the pain of a cursed fate waiting for them, brought a flurry of sensations. They felt their chest ache, and their face tingle as if they would release tears like before, though none came forward. 

On the other hand, the shades all seemed to emit a strange humming sound, one that caused their abyssal forms to vibrate. It was difficult to notice, but the Vessel saw the slight movement. They could also draw simple messages from the humming. 

“Happiness”  
“Sadness”  
“Nostalgia”  
“Pride” 

The emotions came forward, though it left the Vessel in an entirely new state of disarray. Such emotions were supposed to be beyond them. The humming, too. They were supposed to be empty, devoid of mind, will, or voice. Yet, here they were, thinking, and humming. They were happy to see that the ghost had returned after disappearing so long ago, sad that they’d been absent, nostalgic to see them once more, and proud that they’d defeated the Light. Perhaps they weren’t able to hide their thoughts, despite having such a blank expression, because the Hollow Knight took notice. 

“You wonder...and have questions.” 

The eerie noise still took the Vessel by surprise. They provided a nod, and the Vessel seemed to move into a sitting position, though the void essence they were composed of continued to shift in their motionless state. The shades that had joined their group also lowered to the ground, and in compliance, the Vessel plopped down into a seated position, legs in front of them. 

“Speak,” the Hollow Knight croaked, and the Vessel stared openly. Clearly they did not see the very obvious problem. “I wish to hear this voice that your companion so speaks of.” 

Right. Grimm had mentioned it. The Vessel took a moment to compose themself, and then gave a nod. Their arms pointed at the shades, and then their own throat. Why couldn’t they speak? Why couldn’t they hum like the other shades? How was the Hollow Knight able to speak so fluently, yet the Vessel’s words died in their throat? As they desperately attempted to convey their message, the Hollow Knight gave a slow nod. 

“I see what he meant,” they rasped. Their hands moved out, shadowy wisps of void matter, and lifted the Vessel, bringing them closer. “Despite your travels, your adventures, your strife...you have never wished to be heard before. These siblings of ours, myself, we … have all desperately wished to cry out against the Pale King’s deeds.” Something softened in the Hollow Knight’s expression. “Doing so has granted us a voice, a more...conventional one.” They shifted their hold on the knight, bringing them close for an embrace. “Your partner understands you through his own sheer determination. If you wish to share the voice of the shades, to speak as I do, you must also show this determination.” They paused, and there was the slightest of chuckles. “You are not helpless, Little Ghost. You are stronger than your wildest imagination.” 

In the next moment, the Vessel was scooped out of their grasp by thin hands. They held their torso and pulled them close. When they looked up, they saw a familiar face. 

“And what, praytell, is going on here?” Grimm’s voice made the Vessel’s body feel warmer than it had been, though after they remembered the secret, they looked away, unsettled. They supposed they had to just trust Grimm, but … the fear still lurked there, deep within their consciousness. 

“It is a reunion,” the Hollow Knight said. “We were talking.” 

“And you need to handle them so in a simple talk?” Grimm’s eyes had narrowed. A low rumble of a chuckle resonated in the Hollow Knight’s chest. 

“We are siblings. Such skinship is natural amongst bugs.” 

“And other bugs eat each other,” Grimm mumbled, setting the Vessel down onto their feet. He crossed his arms, his eyes roaming to his knight. “You do seem to have grown. So I wasn’t just imagining it.” 

The Vessel perked up at that, patting their torso and nonexistent hips. Had they grown? 

“Such is the result of engaging in relationships,” the Hollow Knight added. “Showered with love, a flower will grow.” 

“Cryptic messages are lost on this one.” 

A feminine voice echoed through the abyss, and shortly after, there was a quiet plop as Hornet landed next to them, thread trailing behind her. She gave a slight nod at the duo. “It seems you made it without incident, reaper.” 

“For the last time -,” Grimm growled, though he glanced to the horde of shades and cleared his throat. “Right. All in one piece.” The gendered child then turned her gaze to the Vessel, her expression softening mildly. 

“I am grateful that you also arrived.” The room fell silent, and Hornet looked left and right as the last hums dulled to nothingness, her eyes glancing over the shades. She stepped forward, and took a knee. One hand moved to the Vessel’s shoulder, and the other gently rubbed the top of their head. “You saved them. All of them. Everyone in this room, and the entirety of Hallownest.” She paused, and then shook her head. “No, not Hallownest. Not anymore. A name holding such malice is one that should not be spoken. Nonetheless, you’ve saved more bugs than you can comprehend.” 

Behind her, the shades began to hum with quiet agreement, and the larger shadow that was the Hollow Knight pushed forward. 

“Guardian of Hallownest, we welcome you.” 

The reunion continued peacefully, with the occasional bickering between Hornet and the troupe master. The Vessel was no longer alone, now surrounded by their partner, sister, and siblings. Tales were shared, hugs were had, and connections reforged. 

The pair bid farewell to the shade siblings, and as they left, it was the Vessel leading the way out. Grimm trailed behind, muttering something about the audacity Hornet had had to call him by such a crude name. He, however, uttered many other names in response. The Vessel had worried about Grimm, worried that secrets were being kept, and that perhaps one day Grimm might wish to leave - but after the events of today, they felt more certain. Grimm cared for them and showed it in his own way, one that only the Vessel knew about. During the walk back, they found peace in their lover’s idle complaining, the sound of their footsteps, and the soft hum that began to emanate from their chest.


End file.
